The Institute
by ariviand
Summary: Familiar faces from The Mortal Instruments begin their formal education at The Institute. Even snark can't hide the fact that it's one scary place. Imagine HP meets TMI, with more sarcasm. AU, but not AH! Ch. 24: Malec moment sibling bonding
1. Introduction

**The Institute**  
a multi-chapter fan fic by ariviand

**Authors's Note**: So I was re-reading parts of City of Bones in order to write the sequel I was considering to When the Ball Drops. But as I did, the idea for this fic struck me. I know that CCHS was one of the first serious fics being written about the TMI cast going to high school. Now it's like an outbreak of herpes taking over FF. Ugh. Yeah. Tell me if this is too much? If I really shouldn't be adding to the sickness. It's just, I realized the one thing I miss in writing CCHS is that they're all human, perfectly human, and a huge part of what makes the Mortal Instruments is missing. I miss a Magnus with power and a Jace, Alec, and Isabelle that kick demon ass - not just kick a soccer ball around and punch a few haters' heads in. So, I was thinking of taking the humor from the books and the characters, and keeping who they are and what they do essentially in tact, while still utilizing the Gang Goes to Highschool scenario. At the same time, I'm kind of thinking of it in a Harry Potter sort of framework, like the Institute as Hogwarts, a place for special people. Not delinquents, mind. Just Downworlders and Shadowhunters. So, we'll see how this goes.

My goals: To begin each chapter with the letter I. Big surprise. To keep the relationships for the most part intact. To introduce as many of the same characters in as close to their original role as possible. And finally, not to fail horribly in the process. Please tell me what you think.

This first chap is a shorty. They'll get longer from here on out.

* * *

**Chapter One:**  
Introduction

A cluster of teenagers stood outside what appeared to be a run-down building in the middle of York avenue. They clutched at their coats and clung to their bags, the fall weather unforgiving and bleak.

Their eyes all stared ahead of them beyond the street, looking intently at the same thing. There was a run-down building, boarded up, graffitied, the windows taped - at least where they weren't broken. There even looked to be a sign posted on the lawn, and another over the door.

But the small group wasn't staring at the condemned site with pity or disgust or even curiosity, wondering why it had been allowed to sink to such a sad level of disrepair. Instead, they looked towards the lot in horror, anxiety, and a few in awe - as if they were seeing something else entirely.

"F my life," the tall blond boy muttered under his breath. "I'm going to ditch after dinner. Maybe before if the food sucks."

"Shut up, Jace," hissed the dark-haired boy, standing beside the blond and nearly matching him in height. He seemed to reach inside his pocket for something, but he thought the better of it, merely making a fist. "No one is going anywhere," the boy said, trying to sound authoritative, though it came across more as sullen and moody.

Suddenly there was a loud crack against the sidewalk and the crowd parted for a girl carrying a gold whip. She smirked as a shorter girl flinched out of her way, looking at the whip with apprehension. The dark-haired boy shot her a disapproving look.

"You're late."

"Lighten up, Alec. It's not like we haven't been forced to go to school before."

"Sure. Mundane schools are perfectly safe. Boring lectures, multiple choice quizzes, over-exposure to dry erase board fumes - no problem. _This_ is another thing entirely."

"You're right," a low voice interrupted. A man with a funny-looking nose and an oddly serene bird perched on his shoulder broke into their conversation. Even the dark-haired girl with the whip regarded him as if she was a little afraid.

"Welcome to the Institute, children." He paused to gesture to the building behind him. It wasn't a dilapidated or abandoned after all. It was just glamored to look this way to passing human eyes. In actuality, it was a rather large, rather old-looking cathedral, what appeared to be fire dancing behind the dark stained-glass windows. Candlelight lit the interior, making the already creepy-looking school appear that much more creepy, like they were about to walk into a Druid sacrifice or a dark mass or something.

The prospect of spending their first night at the infamous Institute was just as foreboding to the band of teenagers. Not an one looked quite so carefree or confident as they had moments ago.

"I'm Hodge Starkweather. And this is Hugo." The man stroked his dark bird fondly, the raven allowing it while staring back at the new students. "I will be your history professor. I also fill in at the library, and it's always my pleasure to greet the first years."

"What is that?" the short redhead asked, pointing a tentative finger at the bird.

"Hugo?" Hodge smiled patiently, cheek inclined in the direction of the bird. "He's a raven."

"Why didn't you call him Poe instead?" The tall blond retorted, lip twitching.

"It seemed too predictable," the professor replied, his steady smile not quite reaching his bright black eyes.

"Not a fan?" The blond pursued, brow raised.

"No, actually. I thought his work was a touch on the dark side."

"But you have a raven for a pet," the dark-haired girl added, coiling her whip around her wrist.

"Touche," Hodge replied with a friendly laugh. "Now, shall we go inside?"

"Lets!" The blond replied, his enthusiasm obviously sarcastic. The boy beside him nudged him hard in the ribs. The blond merely chuckled, heading the line that followed Hodge Starkweather towards the Institute.


	2. Inside

**The Institute**  
a multi-chapter fan fic by ariviand

**Chapter Two**: Inside

Following behind the tweed-clad History professor, the informally lined up group of first-years glanced between one another, eyes wide, mouths tense, hands clenching or reaching for one another or swiping damp brows. No one really seemed to be in the mood to cut up anymore.

Except, that is, for the blond boy.

"So, we're supposed to stay here? Do you even have electricity?"

"Of course," Hodge answered over one shoulder, the one opposite the bird. "And air conditioning as well."

"What about cable TV? Premiums?"

"Jace!" The dark-haired boy, Alec, hissed again.

"That would be a privilege. You know privileges are earned, not something you should expect your first night."

"But I'm going to miss my season premiers," Jace drawled, mouth curving. He didn't look overly concerned; more like he was just hoping to mess with the professor.

But Professor Starkweather seemed unphased. He was looking straight-ahead, while still addressing the impertinent new student. "Then I would advise being on your best behavior, if you still hope to catch this season at all."

"Harsh," Jace replied, snickering over at Alec. Alec scowled back at him.

"What about rooming arrangements?" The dark-haired girl with the whip asked as they neared the entrance.

"We'll get to that in time, Isabelle Lightwood."

"How did you--"

"I know your parents. In fact," Hodge said, slowly turning around in front of the door, his bird still perched just as peacefully on his shoulder, "I know all of your parents."

"Lame," someone muttered.

"Even mine?" Jace asked, a dark look crossing his face.

"Oh, yes," Hodge replied, looking equally as grave. "But let's not linger on the past," he added, with a forced smile. "Tonight it is my job to welcome you to your new home."

"New prison, more like," one of the group murmured, a broad-shouldered girl wearing just an old t-shirt, no coat - in spite of the cold. Hodge seemed not to have heard her.

"The Institute has served as a place of higher education for generations. Downworlders, shadowhunters, great historians and even greater figures in our history have graduated from this esteemed place. Consider yourself lucky to have been accepted here." He paused, his smile finally reaching his eyes - although it looked a little devious for it. The long scar across his face didn't help the visual. "I trust you will survive your time here."

"What do you mean?" The short redhead asked, her eyes gone wide.

"He's just trying to scare you," Isabelle said, barely turning to look at the other girl.

"Am I?" Hodge retorted, still smiling.

Alec spoke up, addressing someone other than his unruly classmates for the first time. "I mean no offense, Professor. But what are we supposed to be learning here, that we can't get at a normal school? I mean, our parents have been training us, and we're all decent students in the usual subjects." Although he glanced sidelong at the blond as if that statement might not apply quite so much to him.

"Haven't I said?" Professor Starkweather asked, brows raised. Even the raven seemed to perk up a bit. "Survival."

"OK. Now he's trying to scare you," Isabelle clarified, presumably addressing the redhead. The shorter girl looked appropriately scared.

"I am not saying that a mundane education is useless," Hodge added, opening his hands, palms up, arms slightly spread. "It's just not going to get you anywhere. And the training your parents have given you is vital. Consider it a prerequisite for this school.

"We all have a path, and as you all know well enough by now, yours is not going to lead you to a cushy desk job or a political office or some other respectable position that anyone outside of our world would recognize. You, my dears, are in the business of saving lives, in healing those who cannot be helped by modern doctors, and protecting the world from demons - even if the world at large doesn't even know it is in danger to begin with. It is a hard life of anonymity, great trials, and extreme pain your average human couldn't hope to endure, much less live to tell the tale. Your parents know this, and in spite of finding this lifestyle arduous and often heartbreaking, they chose the same path for you. You will be following in their footsteps as of tonight, and I trust you will come to appreciate how well the Institute can prepare you for the life you are meant to lead."

There was a heavy silence following Hodge's impassioned speech. A harsh wind blew, rustling their coats and their belongings as they held onto them. Isabelle impatiently swiped the hair out of her face. The short redhead hugged her arms across her chest. Alec glanced down at the ground at his feet, and Jace looked straight on at Hodge, wearing a deep frown.

"Good. I see that has put us all in the right perspective. Now you're ready," Hodge said with a smile. Turning around once more, he removed a key from his pocket and slid it into the lock, opening the door.

"That's it?" Jace asked, with a little scoff.

"You were expecting a state-of-the-art alarm system?" Hodge asked, moving the heavy door open and stepping to one side, allowing the teenagers to enter.

Jace shrugged, hooking his thumbs inside his pockets.

"It's enough," Professor Starkweather explained. "In case you haven't noticed, the Institute was once a Cathedral. We are all standing on hallowed ground. That means, no demon can pass within these walls. It keeps the evil out. As for vandalists, well, there's not much worse you can do to the run-down building that humans see when they pass this address on the street. Besides, the caution-tape and the presence of occasional rats keep most loiterers away."

"Are the rats a glamor too?" Isabelle asked, nose wrinkled.

"Oh, no. They're quite real. A practical joke of one of our staff."

"Funny," Isabelle replied with distaste.

"But there aren't any rats in here, right?" The redhead asked, still looking alarmed.

"Don't worry, Clarissa. The rats will soon be the least of your worries, my dear," Hodge said, probably meaning to sound reassuring. But clearly, Clary was not reassured.

"Are you sure you're not a fan of Poe, Professor?" The blond inquired, walking past Hodge and into the entryway. "You're very doom and gloom."

"Am I? Hm," Hodge replied distractedly, as if he didn't realize or particularly care. And then that kind-of-friendly smile was in place again and he waved the rest of the group inside before the heavy door once more closed behind them with solid finality.


	3. Intake

**The Institute**  
a multi-chapter fan fic by ariviand

**Chapter Three: Intake  
**

"Follow me," Hodge announced, taking to a stone set of stairs, the heels of his polished shoes making faint clicking sounds as he ascended. It was strange to imagine this well-dressed man was actually a shadowhunter, as well a professor. He looked more the latter. But he had scars enough, though most were hidden beneath his finely tailored suit.

Alec glanced down at one of the more prominent runes on his own hands, idly tracing the pattern with his fingertip before he felt a sharp elbow to his lower back.

"Walk," Jace ordered impatiently, following behind him.

"What happened to you charging forth into every situation first?" Alec challenged, willing to ignore the jab just this once. He was trying to keep the peace, after all.

"I think you can handle a set of old stairs just fine," Jace replied with a little smile. Alec caught himself staring at that smile a second too long.

"Alec," Jace said, brow raised. His voice sounded rich and husky.

Alec swallowed. "Umm. What?"

"Get going, idiot," the blond boy reminded, and Alec turned around, his face teeming with heat as he started up the stairs.

"Is all this really necessary?" Isabelle grumbled, dragging a wheeled suitcase along with her.

"Is all that luggage really necessary?" Jace asked, chuckling.

"Yes. This isn't a weekend getaway. And I can't depend on mom and dad to bring me by something cute."

"We're going to wear uniforms, you know," Alec pointed out, addressing his sister. "You could have packed lighter."

"_What?"_ Isabelle said, stopping short on the stairs. Her tone was indignant and surprised, and she nearly let go of her heavy luggage.

"Move," someone grunted from behind her, blocked on the stairwell.

"Hurry up, children!" Hodge called from ahead, at the top of the stairs and waiting for them.

"I can't believe this," Isabelle said, one hand resting against her hip. "I didn't sign up for uniforms."

" 'Don't worry, dear,' " Jace said with a snicker, trying to imitate Hodge. " 'That's the least of your worries.' "

Isabelle punched his arm with her free hand. Alec's arm shot out too late to stop it.

"Shut up," Isabelle snapped. Then she gave her bag a strong tug and walked/rolled upstairs, forcing Alec to one side of the stairwell and Jace to the other.

"She took that well, I thought," Jace replied, before closing the gap and throwing his arm around Alec's shoulders.

Alec was too taken aback by the closeness to form a proper reply, face red, letting Jace pull him the rest of the way upstairs and into the elevator. He didn't breathe until the other boy released him and they all turned around to face the closing doors.

"This place must be huge," the girl wearing the t-shirt assessed, glancing up as the elevator started to move.

"Oh, yes. The Institute serves both as a school and a large dormitory and sanctuary for traveling shadowhunters. They exist around the world for the same purpose."

"I remember the Institute in Idris," Alec shared, glancing at the metal doors distractedly as he thought back to these childhood memories.

"Indeed. Much nicer than our humble offering," Hodge replied.

"I guess."

The elevator came to a stop and the doors were opening once more. Hodge stepped off first, turning to await the others. His bird shifted slightly, appearing to get restless on his shoulder.

"I think Hugo has to take a shit," one of the boys pointed out, with a rude laugh.

Hodge didn't acknowledge the comment, waiting until the elevator had been unloaded before closing the gate.

"Ah. Church," the professor said, turning to look at the sitting room.

"Are we playing the obvious game?" Isabelle whispered. Hadn't he already said this used to be a Cathedral? It could have gone unsaid, anyway. The spires and the stained glass and the large assortment of crucifixes throughout were a pretty dead giveaway.

"Church," Professor Starkweather repeated, "is our cat. He lives here. Come, Church. Meet our new arrivals."

Rounding one side of the nearest couch, the gray cat stretched lazily, taking his time before coming over to where the others waited by the elevator, his yellow eyes calmly assessing them.

"He's a very smart creature. Church can take you to anyone within these walls, provided he has the proper motivation."

"Catnip?"

"A mouse?"

"A light scratching will suffice," Hodge replied. "And he has a weakness for tuna as well."

"Good to know," Jace replied, stepping forward and kneeling down by the cat in order to stroke Church's head. Church leaned into the attention, starting to purr.

"So you do have a gentle side," the professor noted, watching the blond boy pet the cat.

"Most people just don't get to see it," Alec replied stiffly, a touch defensive. "It doesn't mean it's not there."

"Thanks for defending my honor, Alec," Jace replied, glancing back at the other boy. Alec twitched and looked down at his feet again in embarrassment.

"Well. Let's get back to our tour, shall we?" Hodge segwayed again, gesturing to the sitting room. "This is where everyone tends to congregate in the evenings after dinner and before bedtime."

"So we have a curfew?" Isabelle asked, grip tightening on the handle of her suitcase.

"We'll get to that," Hodge replied smoothly, walking further into the sitting room. "There is no smoking, no loitering in the hallways, no profanity, no vandalism of school property, no fighting outside of the training room - and only there properly supervised. Cell phones are allowed in the privacy of your own room, but not to be used or on your person in class at any time, or they will be confiscated."

"Are you serious?" The girl with the t-shirt asked, eyes bugging out.

"Yes, my dear. Completely serious. Generally we don't return them before the end of the school year."

"Holy -- I mean, ouch."

Professor Starkweather smiled. "These aren't unfair rules. You wouldn't be able to get away with the same at a mundane school. It won't fly here, either."

"But we have to live here," Isabelle pointed out, the frown written all over her forehead.

"Yes. And as to that, I suppose I should show you to your rooms so you can prepare for dinner."

Jace finally rose to his feet, oddly quiet during this whole conversation. "I can't wait," he said.

"This way," Hodge said, walking through the sitting room in order to lead them toward the residential wing.


	4. Inherit

**The Institute**  
a multi-chapter fan fic by ariviand

**Chapter Four: Inherit  
**

"No daudling in the hallway," Hodge called. The tail end of the first years' group quickened their steps to keep up with the rest, but the professor was actually addressing a number of upperclassman standing around, apparently waiting to check out the new arrivals. A dark-haired boy leaned casually against the doorway to his room, none too intimidated by the professor's warning. He smiled as the others passed, glancing pointedly at Jace, who shot him a backward glance as well, irritated by the attention. Further down the hallway, a girl stood just inside the doorway, talking on her cell and glancing, unimpressed, at the passersby.

"Charming student body," Jace pointed out, the hostile greeting palpable.

"No one is terribly excited that summer is over. I'm sure you understand."

Jace shrugged.

"So there isn't a separate dorm for girls?" Clary asked, noting the mixture of boys and girls watching them from behind propped open doors. The hall seemed endless.

"No. But that doesn't mean we're lax about the rules. Shenanigans won't be tolerated."

" 'Shenanigans?' " Alec asked, genuinely confused. Jace laughed, assuming he was making fun of Hodge.

"None of that will be tolerated," the professor said, glancing over one shoulder at the teenagers.

"Did you hear that, Alec?" Isabelle called, rather loudly. "No shenanigans!"

"Thanks, Izz! I was unclear on that point!" Alec snapped, trying desperately to keep the heat out of his face. He glanced sidelong at Jace, biting his lower lip, but Jace wasn't looking at him. He was looking straight ahead, head inclined around Hodge as if to make out what was ahead.

"And we all have a room to ourselves," Jace asked, or more appropriately, pointed out - since it didn't sound like a question. He'd only noticed one room where two people shared, a room with two girls sitting close and talking on the narrow bed as they walked past.

"That's correct. We have more than enough room to accommodate our students, and still have room to spare."

Jace whistled.

The raven seemed agitated by the sound. Hodge reassured the bird with a gentle pet, stopping abruptly and turning around to face his tour.

"This is where your rooms begin. First years always take the end. There are stories that go round that the air conditioning doesn't reach this end of the hallway quite as well, which is why the upperclassman crudely call this end the "sweatbox," but I assure you, there's nothing wrong with the ventilation system."

"And if they're right? We just have to deal?" Isabelle asked, hand on her hip again.

"Learn to open your window," Jace proposed.

Hodge didn't reply. Instead, he started listing off names and gesturing to the open doors, handing out room assignments.

Each student walked into their respective bedrooms, met by the same sight: through the open doorway, they were greeted by the same stripped down, narrow bed, the mattress hard and thin, with crisp white sheets and a single pillowcase stacked and folded at the end of the bed, along with a bare pillowcase set neatly on top of the stack. There was also a small window, with no blinds or curtains, just bars on the outside, a dark wood nightstand, a large wardrobe, and a simple lamp. The room looked very...institutional. More than that, it looked like a cell in a monastery, complete with angel themes and crucifixes on the wall.

Flipping open the wardrobe, each would notice an array of clothes already set out for them, all school-issue uniforms. The formal uniform - black trousers or skirts, black vests, white starched collared shirts, black socks, black patent leather shoes or boots, black overcoats, black sweaters, black raincoats; there was also the training uniform - form-fitted black pants and shirts for both sexes, as well as proper padding and guard; and of course, former battle gear, consisting of leather, leather, and more leather.

As the first years' gave a look around their new bedrooms, Hodge paused in the hallway, issuing one final warning. "Dinner will be in thirty minutes. Feel free to clean up and change your clothes. Bear in mind, weapons are not permitted in the dining hall. You won't need them over supper, so I would advise you leave your steles, any blades, knifes, handcuffs or what have you behind with your things. You will find a key in your nightstand drawer which is fitted to your lock. You may lock your things inside while you're out of your room.

"Unless there are any further questions, I will see you at dinner."

"You've got to be kidding me!" Isabelle exclaimed, throwing open the door to her wardrobe.

"All right, then," Hodge said, ignoring the outburst and heading back down the hall, leaving them to it.

* * *

"I see the decor here is about as chipper as the staff," Jace pointed out, letting himself in Alec's room.

Alec lifted his head sharply, interrupted in the middle of his very careful unpacking. "You could knock."

"I could. But why start now?"

Alec shook his head, returning to the task at hand. "Never mind."

"You think they'll feed us grool?"

"No. I'm sure it will be a well-balanced, healthy meal. This is a fine school, Jace."

"Right. So I keep hearing."

"You know, if you really don't care, why are you here?" Alec asked, setting down the neatly folded shirt to direct his full attention on Jace. "If you're just going to mock everyone and everything, why did you agree to come?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Jace asked, brows drawn.

Alec shrugged, looking uncomfortable.

"It would mean a lot to your parents."

"I'm surprised you care," Alec muttered.

"I do care," Jace confirmed. Alec glanced up, holding his breath. "I do...care for them, and I want them to be proud."

"They are proud. They love you," Alec was quick to reply, then he balled one hand into a fist, digging his fingers into his own palm.

"Besides, 'This is our destiny, dear boy. We have a responsibility to our parents, and we can't possibly let them down now,' " Jace teased.

Alec threw one of his carefully folded pants at the other boy's face. Jace swatted the clothes aside, laughing. "Watch out. They'll wrinkle," he joked, then turned around and walked out of the room, leaving Alec scowling over his rumpled pair of pants.

* * *

_Thank you for those who are reading. I hope to get out at least one more chapter tonight while the idea is fresh and I have the time. I swear to you, Magnus will appear! Don't rush things. I want it to be right._

_What do you think so far?  
_


	5. Interim

**The Institute**  
a multi-chapter fan fic by ariviand

**Chapter Five: Interim  
**

"Hey."

Clary kept walking, picking up the pace as she did. But her legs would only move so fast.

"Hello."

Clary glanced up distractedly, realizing she hadn't imagined it the first time. Someone was talking to her, and that someone was Jace, the incredibly attractive blond boy with the snappy comebacks.

"Hi," Clary replied, still trying to make her short legs move as fast as possible. So much for snappy replies of her own.

"Mind if I walk with you?"

"No? We all have to eat."

"So true. I'm not sure if there's going to be assigned seating or if we'll have to sit in silence or something penal, but if that's not the case, would you like to sit with me?"

"What?" Clary asked dumbly, looking up at him in disbelief.

"Would you like to sit with me?" Jace repeated, brows raised. He was looking down at her like she was exceptionally slow.

"You don't want to sit with your friends?" Clary awkwardly replied, trying to recover from the shock of being asked.

"Trying to pass me off already? Burn," Jace replied, though he looked amused. "Fine. I can take a hint."

"I-" Clary stammered, but Jace was already walking ahead of her, his long legs managing it with greater ease and grace than her own. Frowning, she watched him disappear down the hall, catching up with the dark-haired girl and her brother.

* * *

"What is that smell?" Alec asked, making a disgusted face as they headed into the dining hall.

"Your upper lip," Jace replied.

"You're so immature," Alec sighed, pinching his nose.

"And you're pathetic. It smells great."

"Something's burning," Isabelle commented, sniffing at the air.

"You would know," Jace retorted, walking ahead of them, claiming a table. Alec followed suit, sitting beside him. Isabelle sat opposite the boys, toying with the knife set out on the table. The formal place setting was a nice touch.

"This is unexpected," Jace remarked, referring to the whole formal dinner affair.

"I told you," Alec defended. It was a far cry from a public school. Or a monastery.

"I wonder what we will be dining on?" Jace teased, with a haughty lift of his chin. "Roast pheasant? Filet mignon, perhaps?"

"I'm starving," Isabelle groaned, tucking her napkin into her lap as if that would make the meal come faster.

"Me too," Alec agreed, though the pervasive smell in the air gave him misgivings.

Most of the students had arrived and taken their seats. There was a low hum of voices conversating, the clink of silverware restlessly being moved around. Feet scraped across the floor and chairs scooted into place.

Finally, there was the fragile ringing sound of someone knocking against the side of their glass, attempting to get the attention of the entire dining hall.

"Good evening, children," Hodge greeted, smiling over his lifted glass.

"Good evening," a majority of the room greeted in unison. Jace, Alec, and Isabelle shot each other funny glances, not aware they were meant to chime in.

"In the absence of our headmaster, I would like to welcome you all to the start of another school year. I am grateful that we could all gather here together once again, and for those who are joining us for the first time, I hope you will enjoy the meal and take this last opportunity to relax and breathe before classes begin in earnest tomorrow."

Hodge chuckled, raising his glass of what appeared to be water in a salute, before taking a greedy sip and sitting down again, speech over.

"He's such a freak," Isabelle muttered, head bowed as if to keep the neighboring students from hearing.

"Hush," Alec chided, head bowed as well. But he was staring at his empty plate, wondering if they were supposed to get up and serve themselves or if someone was going to come around and fill them? His stomach growled impatiently, demanding food one way or another.

"Well, you were right, Alec," Jace said, tapping his fork to the empty china. Alec cringed. "They aren't feeding us grool. They're just going to starve us."

"No way," Isabelle replied, sitting back in her chair in exasporation. "Could this horror show get any worse?"

"Sure. Our uniforms could be pastel," Jace taunted, brows raised.

The students turned their heads at the sound of rich laughter coming from the head of the dining hall. Standing beside Hodge was a very tall, very glittery man. His ringed hand rested against Hodge's shoulder, drawing Alec's attention briefly to the fact that Hodge's bird wasn't perched there anymore. But then his eyes panned back up the bare, glittery arm, to the loud t-shirt and finally to the man's shining face, his colorful eye makeup and strange eyes. There was something about them that Alec couldn't quite make out from the distance. And the man's teeth were blinding white as his lips generously parted in a smile.

"I'm sorry. That was a wicked trick, wasn't it?" The man said, greeted by the silence of the room.

"Bon appetite!" he said, before snapping the fingers of his right hand together. Immediately there were gasps from the first years, one girl almost falling out of her chair. Their plates were filled with food that wasn't there before, their glasses filled with ice water that had only been ice moments ago.

All of this apparently just...materialized at a snap of the man's ringed fingers.

"Warlock," Alec breathed, stunned by the elaborate gesture.

"Mmmmm," Isabelle hummed around her fork, enjoying her first bite of the meal. "That was epic."

"How does it taste?" Jace asked, suspicious of the magically conjured food, assuming it fell in the same category as accepting faery refreshment - not to be trusted.

But Isabelle didn't turn into a frog or disappear in a puff of colored smoke. She didn't start crying for no reason or throw off her clothes or laugh hysterically. She just looked happy to be eating, giving both boys a strange look because they hadn't touched their food yet.

Alec tentatively forked a bite of the meat, then brought it to his mouth. He fought back a groan. Isabelle was right. It was exceptionally good. A far cry from grool.

"How...?"

"It's just simple conjuring," the girl sitting beside Isabelle pointed out, discretely texting from beneath the table.

"Sorry?" Alec asked, glancing across the table at the girl.

"He didn't actually make the food or anything. He just relocated it from the kitchen."

"How do you know?" Alec asked, sounding rude. But really, what made the girl such a know-it-all?

"He did it last year," she said, looking back up at him cooly.

"Is he a teacher here?" Jace asked, gesturing to the guy with the glitter as he took his seat beside Hodge.

"Technically. Magnus Bane is also the High Warlock of Brooklyn. Sometimes he has a substitute, if he's needed elsewhere."

"Is he always so..." Alec began, tentatively looking over at the man before staring back at his plate in confusion.

"Flashy?"

"I guess."

"Yeah," the girl replied, returning her attention to her phone.

"Are you going to eat that?" Isabelle asked the girl, staring at her untouched plate.

The girl didn't respond in words, just pushed the plate over towards Isabelle, who immediately started helping herself.

"I love this school," Isabelle declared, sold by the food.


	6. Impending

**The Institute**  
a multi-chapter fan fic by ariviand

**Chapter Six: Impending  
**

"Why does it feel like we just ate our last meal?"

Alec rolled his eyes as they left the dining hall. "They're not going to starve us, Jace. The Clave wouldn't allow it. Our _parents_ wouldn't have it."

"Unless it's part of some hardcore lesson on deprivation or making it work in the wild. You watch. They're going to starve us at some point."

"I think there is a greater danger of being overindulgent," Alec murmured, thinking of his sister, who had finished off two full plates of food. She never ate that much. It made him suspicious at first, wondering what was in the food and if it was working some kind of spell on her - and the rest of the dining hall, for that matter. But once Alec ate the first few tentative bites, he had to concede that it did taste better than anything they were used to eating at home, especially when Isabelle tried to take over the cooking. So maybe she just got carried away eating really good food.

She was going to regret it tomorrow, if they were doing anything even remotely physical.

On that note, Alec wasn't sure what they were going to be doing, and it would be easier if he knew how to prepare or what to expect, or which of the uniforms they had been assigned he should set out in advance. He liked to be prepared.

"I was wondering what our class schedule is going to be like. I didn't see an itinerary or anything in the room--" Alec stopped short as Jace walked away, heading into the sitting room they had walked through earlier. Irritated that he was being ignored, Alec followed a few steps behind and paused, frowning as he saw Jace slide into one of the couches, making himself at home in the room occupied by upperclassman primarily. The dark-haired girl from earlier, the one who'd passed off her entire meal to Isabelle, she was curled up against the arm of the couch, still at it with her cell phone. At Jace's arrival, she glanced up, looking annoyed to be bothered. But then she wasn't annoyed. He was talking and she was smiling, shifting to face him properly, the phone disappearing. She cradled her cheek in her hand and laughed, listening intently, then her fingers were playing with her hair, looking up at him with interest, her body language obviously flirty.

Sickened and angry, Alec turned around and left the room, shoving aside a number of students as he stormed away.

* * *

"Sweat box" was not an appropriate description for the freshmen end of the dorm. Alec was freezing. He'd made the bed before leaving for dinner, but even with the sheets, the school-issue blanket, a small afghan he'd brought from home, and two winter coats he'd found in the wardrobe, Alec still felt the chill in the room. He blamed it on the high ceilings more than anything. Of course the temperature couldn't properly regulate when the room was inordinately tall. And the stone walls didn't help.

Shuddering inside the mountain of blankets and clothes, Alec drew his legs up and wrapped his arms around his knees, tucking his chin into his chest.

He kept hoping to hear the AC unit cut off, signaling that he might have a few minutes of warmth, a break from the cold. But it was constantly running, the unit humming, the frosty air drifting downward to where Alec was curled into a fetal position trying to keep warm.

He heard the ticking of his alarm clock. Who knew digital alarms ticked like wall clocks? Maybe it was dying.

Alec reached over to check the time stamp on his phone. 10:32. Damn. He needed to get some rest, assuming they would be forced to wake early. A shadowhunter's day always started out early.

Playing with his phone beneath the covers, Alec - teeth chattering, unable to sleep, finally decided to type a text out to Jace. He was a couple rooms down, but Alec knew better than to venture out at this hour. Hodge had been clear about the rules.

**It's an icebox in here. Are you awake?**

When no reply came, Alec sighed. Obviously Jace had no trouble falling asleep in the subarctic. Alec, on the other hand, found it impossible. It wasn't just the cold. It was the sound of the alarm clock ticking, the fact that he couldn't turn his mind off. The cold just wasn't helping him relax and get comfortable.

At one point he even got out of bed and grabbed his stele, wondering if there was some obscure rune for sleep. Not able to think of anything that would work, Alec sighed and curled up with both his stele and his cell, wearing both of the coats now instead of using them as an undersized blanket on top of the other covers.

It felt like he finally closed his eyes when the shrill sound of a whistle startled him awake again, his head throbbing like someone had attacked him with a jack hammer when he was out.

* * *

_Next chapter will be longer, I promise. Working on it now._


	7. Interrupted

**The Institute**  
a multi-chapter fan fic by ariviand

**Chapter Seven:** Interrupted

The whistling continued all the way down the hall, steadily getting louder. Alec sat up with a start and a subsequent groan, palm flattening out against his forehead, feeling the pain shoot into his temple, behind his eyes, and the back of his head.

He knew it was because he hadn't slept much last night. But he didn't think it would hurt quite so much. The jarring whistle certainly wasn't helping.

Neither was the knock that came seconds later, one on his door, then the one next door, and the one after that and after that, quickly progressing down the hall.

"Rise and shine, kiddies! If I have to be awake at this hour, so do you!" A voice called, apparently doing its best to sound obnoxious - as if the knocking and the whistling wasn't enough.

Alec stumbled out of bed, throwing back the covers and heading for the door. Turning the knob, he shoved the door open in order to poke his head out, squinting.

Down at the other end of the hall was a tall, vaguely familiar figure. It was the massive amount of glitter glinting off bare arms that tipped him off. Alec realized it was the warlock from the night before, the flashy professor who had relocated their dinner.

Ducking back inside, Alec ran an agitated hand through his messy hair, then set about rubbing the crust from his eyes.

Jace's chuckle broke him off from the eye-rubbing. "You look like shit," Jace noted.

Alec scowled, shooting him as scathing of a look as he could manage, given the circumstances.

"Are you OK?" Jace asked. He sounded sincerely concerned now.

"I'm fine. I just didn't get much sleep last night."

"Nervous about today?" Jace asked, leaning into the door frame.

"No. I was freezing and the bed hurt my back and the alarm clock was ticking," Alec explained with annoyance.

"Alarm clocks don't tick," Jace retorted with a snicker.

"_Mine_ did."

"Uh huh," Jace replied, laughing under his breath.

"Break it up, boys."

Jace straightened up at the sound of the professor standing behind him. He slowly pivoted around on one foot. He looked irritated to have to look up to the other man. The warlock looked amused by that fact.

"You better hop in the shower so you can still have time to blow dry and style your hair," the warlock teased, eyes sizing up Jace.

Alec stiffened, worried about what Jace might say in reply. He held his breath, eyes darting between the two anxiously.

But Jace merely pasted on a smile. "Thank you for your concern,_ Professor_. I'm sure I'll manage," he drawled, before weaving between the lanky warlock and the door frame, heading back down to his room.

When the warlock's strange eyes turned on Alec, his shoulders went up self-consciously. Then he realized what was so strange about those eyes. They were green and gold, but what's more, he had the pupils of a cat, vertical slits that seemed to dilate a little in the light.

Alec didn't realize he was staring until the warlock smiled and leaned into the doorway just as Jace had, only he looked somehow even more lazy and graceful as he did, his very thin, but also very tall form filling up the space.

"You better wash up too, sleeping beauty," the warlock murmured, so soft it sounded like a purr, and Alec wasn't quite sure he had heard him right. Blushing, Alec turned away and went over to the wardrobe, trying to distract himself with picking out his clothes.

Wait. He still didn't know which uniform he was supposed to wear. Spinning around, he thought to ask the professor. But the man was already gone.

Alec let out a long breath, a little relieved. The way the warlock had been looking at him made him feel uncomfortable, and far too self-aware.

Well, the formal school uniform seemed like the safest decision. Alec carefully removed the starched shirt, the trousers, a pair of socks, one pair of shoes, the dark vest, and uniform jacket, draping the clothes along the length of the bed, leaving the shoes just beside it. He also plugged in the iron he'd brought with him, just in case unwanted wrinkles needed to be vanquished before he left for class.

But how much time did he really have until then? The warlock hadn't said. Biting his lip, Alec rummaged for a towel and his boxers, heading for the bathroom. Fortunately it didn't take him long to shower. Five minutes would be plenty to wash his hair and make use of the bar of soap, then climb out and comb the tangles from his hair. It would dry fine on its own, and take whatever unruly shape it wanted. He wasn't particularly concerned with his appearance. Neatness was key, but looking attractive for other people - that was Jace's line, not his. Only Jace didn't have to do much to be attractive.

Alec unconsciously did almost everything he could to fight against his own attractiveness. But he couldn't undo the features of his face or hide behind his hair. It was a little too long and could use a trim, but it still didn't cover his eyes and it was no cover for his often flushed cheeks or tense mouth.

In less than fifteen minutes, Alec was working feverishly over imaginary wrinkles in his shirt, fully dressed from the waist down. The iron put off puffs of steam as it passed over his uniform shirt.

"Come on. Everyone is heading to the dining hall," Jace said from the doorway. He was already fully dressed, hair dried, looking like he hadn't rushed at all. Alec frowned at him, struggling into his warm shirt, turning away from the other boy as he worked over the buttons, fumbling with the last two.

Then he snatched up his jacket, slid his stele into his back pocket and retrieved the key from the nightstand, rushing out of the room and locking it behind him.


	8. Infirmary

**The Institute**  
a multi-chapter fan fic by ariviand

**Chapter Eight: Infirmary  
**

Breakfast was uneventful. The food was already on the plates this time when the students filed into the dining hall. The spacious area smelled strongly of eggs, cooked meat, toasted bread - an appetizing array of morning foods. Obviously breakfast was as indulgent an affair as dinner had been, sparing no side item - complete with the fine silverware, folded napkins, and ornate glasses. It just didn't seem like they were at school when they gathered to eat - even boarding school shouldn't be this nice.

There had to be a catch.

The catch, Alec strongly suspected, would rear its ugly head as classes began. With reservation and foreboding, Alec quietly trailed behind Isabelle and Jace, being directed with the rest of the first years to a room in a separate wing of the cathedral-turned-Institute.

It wasn't a classroom at all. It was what appeared to be a small hospital. It smelled of alcohol and clean sheets. The row of narrow beds with their metal frames looked like a scene from a WWII movie, like white pencil-skirted nurses were going to step out to greet them with clipboards in their hands.

Instead, an older woman with a pleasant face, a wide body, and an extreme hat waited just inside the room, standing in front of one of the beds.

"Good morning, first years."

"Good morning," some of the students replied, getting used to the in unison-greeting. Alec, not so much. He remained silent, still checking out the room.

Alec looked up at the high, arched ceiling, reminded that they were inside a church after all and not the wing of a hospital. There were cherubs and clouds painted on the ceiling.

That wasn't weird at all.

"My name is Madame Dorthea, and I will be your Professor of Demonology this year."

There was an awkward exchange of looks between the group of students. Really? This woman was going to teach them demonology? With her turban, her heavy earrings, and her vivid clothes, it looked more like she should be sitting before a crystal ball reading their fortune, rather than teaching them about the perils of the demons that terrorized the world.

And yet the woman looked rather serious about it. What, then, were they doing in the hospital room?

"Seriously?" Jace asked, the first to speak what everyone was thinking.

"Oh, I can see you're going to be great fun this year," Dorothea replied, smiling at the blond boy. This wasn't usually how people received his comments, and it seemed Jace wasn't quite sure how to respond. He half-smiled, sliding one hand inside the pocket of his uniform trousers, trying to mask his own discomfort.

"I'll do my best," he promised, making the woman laugh. The jewel attached to her turban rippled as she shook with laughter. Alec watched it bob and catch the light.

"So, what are we doing here?" Isabelle asked, wrinkling her nose as she stepped up beside her brother. Alec distractedly realized that instead of wearing the leather school-issue shoes and knee-high socks, Isabelle was wearing thigh-high boots that almost disappeared beneath her uniform skirt. He wondered how long she would be able to get away with that alteration, and how angry she would be once she was asked to change back to the common loafers.

"Excellent question, Isabelle."

The girl blinked, but didn't seem quite so surprised anymore that every member of the faculty already seemed to know their names, and could address them on sight.

"This is the Institute's infirmary," Dorothea explained, gesturing to the sterile room around them. "We have everything you might need by way of a mundane doctor's office, but in addition to dressing bandages and cleaning wounds and dispensing medication, we have the ability to heal those who have been attacked by demons. That is why I brought you here today, because every single one of you will find yourself lying in one of these beds at some point in your life."

One of the taller boys in the back scoffed, clearly thinking he wouldn't slip up.

"No? You don't think so?" Madame Dorothea challenged, eying him. "Think again, dearest. No matter how experienced, how cocky, or how cool you may think you are, when you walk into battle, you never know what you're going to encounter. Your weapons will help you, your knowledge may save your life, but we're still human. That is a truth you must accept."

She paused long enough to make sure her point had gotten across, then she began again with enthusiasm. "So, at some point in your training or in the field, I expect you may encounter a demon attack. Poison travels fast within the human body, and depending on the nature of the demon and the severity of the injuries, you may not have more than an hour at best to get help. The _iratze, _your standard healing rune, can only do so much. There are salves and potions - which we'll discuss later, that may forestall the spreading of the poison and the excruciating side-effects. But ultimately, the attention you require will be found here. Let's hope you don't fall prey to a demon attack too far from the Institute, hm?" She chuckled, shoulders bobbing.

No one seemed to echo her humor.

"Professor," Alec began, his voice coming out rough. He cleared his throat for a moment, then began again. "Can I ask what it is you are referring to, exactly? What antidotes do we keep on hand, and why couldn't we travel with them instead of having to depend on making it back here in time?"

"Excellent thought, Alexander," she praised. Isabelle giggled at the use of his full name. He shot her a look.

"Unfortunately, there are as many antidotes as there are demons. The same as you might encounter with snake bites, only even more deadly. You can't administer the wrong antidote and hope it will work just the same. And that is why it is key to learn to identify and distinguish between the types of demons that are known to us."

"But you can't just...kill them and bring back the demon as evidence?" Clary asked, a full head and shoulders shorter than her classmates. That fact seemed to bother her as they turned to look at her and she felt herself shrinking before their eyes.

"Darling Clary. That wouldn't be possible."

"Why not...?"

"Obviously you've never killed a demon," Isabelle replied, shaking her head at the girl's naivete.

"That's cute," Jace muttered, smiling down at her.

"Is that some kind of short joke?" Clary demanded, mouth screwing into a scowl.

"No. Your height is unfortunate. It's your lack of experience that's cute," Jace amended, mouth still curving.

"What he means to say," Alec gruffly replied, his left hand in a fist, "is that you can't bring back a dead demon for show and tell. Their physical body disappears and they return to their home dimension when they die. There's no proof left except maybe smears and ash and a nasty smell."

"Very good, Alec," Dorothea commended.

Clary frowned, the pale skin of her face a little redder now beneath the sprinkling of freckles.

"So," the professor continued, clapping her hands. "We must rely on our increasing knowledge of these malevolent beings, draw from the experience of those who came before us, learn from our own mistakes - and above all, pray that it won't be too soon before you reserve a place of your own in one of these beds!"

"Are these silk sheets?" Jace asked, sitting down on the edge of one of the mattresses, testing it out.

"Linen, actually. Are you quite comfortable, Jonathan?" Madame Dorthea teased, watching him situate himself.

"It's Jace," he corrected, not seeing the humor this time. Abruptly he stood up and returned to the group. Alec unconsciously stepped closer to his parabatai, hand twitching in the direction of Jace's side. But he balled that hand into a fist again to keep from reaching for the other boy.

"Well. Would anyone like to sneak a peek at some of the antidotes we keep on site?" Dorothea invited.

The students crowded around her as she led the way over to the locked cabinets.

"Are you all right?" Alec asked, stepping up to Jace with a look of concern.

"Just leave it," Jace replied under his breath, leaving him to join the others.


	9. Impression

**The Institute**  
a multi-chapter fan fic by ariviand

**Chapter Nine: Impression  
**

"Jace, wait up," Alec called, jogging after the other boy as he left the Infirmary.

Jace just kept walking, not even glancing back to acknowledge Alec's bid for him to stop.

Frowning, Alec picked up the pace, shouldering aside some of the other students, unintentionally stepping on toes. His eyes were following the passage of Jace's bobbing golden hair moving down the hall, trying to keep his sight trained on him. But there was a sea of black shoulders weaving in and out of his vision, blocking his view of Jace.

Frustrated, Alec pushed a girl out of the way, growling low in his throat.

Then he felt a light tug on his wrist. Reflexively, he shrugged it off, but Isabelle returned with a swat to his arm.

"What?" Alec snapped.

"Are you ignoring me on purpose?" His sister demanded, her frown not altogether unlike the shape of his as she looked up at him. The facial similarities were uncanny, only her eyes were dark, whereas his were a pale blue. They both flushed when they were irritated, thin skin apparently a family trait.

"What do you want?" Alec demanded, shoulders tense. The fact that she had been following him - and the reason behind it, was obviously less important than his trailing Jace, hence the impatience.

"I've been running to catch up with you. You didn't hear me calling your name?"

"No, I was...no, I didn't," Alec replied, trying to resist the urge to search the hallway for Jace again.

"Idiot," she muttered, though they started walking again, Isabelle keeping easy pace with him.

"What are you doing with the boots?" Alec asked distractedly, glancing down at the heeled leather boots from the corner of his eye.

"What about them?"

"I'm fairly sure those aren't school issue footwear."

"Really?" Her tone was innocent Isabelle now. She giggled, holding one hand over her mouth. Alec rolled his eyes. Only stupid boys fell for that. Definitely not her brother.

"You're going to get in trouble." OK, so that might not be much of a threat. Alec tried a different angle. "What if they take them away? Are you willing to take the chance?"

"I don't wear loafers, Alec. I refuse."

"All right," he sighed, shaking his head. But when she was caught, he wasn't going to sit around and listen to her vent. He'd be generous enough to spare her an 'I told you so.' That's the best he could do after warning her.

"If they try to take my shoes, it's on," Isabelle added.

Alec scowled. But the soft nudge at his side was supposed to clue him in to the fact that Isabelle was kidding.

He just jerked and moved an arm's length away from her, not in the mood.

* * *

As they followed the flow of first years into the next classroom, Alec heard Isabelle sigh.

"What?" he asked, stepping aside to let her walk through the smallish doorway first.

"Dark roast," she said with another happy sigh.

_What?_

But then Alec caught on. The smell of coffee permeated the room. His nostrils flared, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee reminding him of home. It was the only thing they could all prepare without issue, even Isabelle, so it was a staple every morning - a pot of black coffee and burnt toast.

Alec realized he hadn't had the chance to grab a cup this morning. He didn't even remember any being offered in the dining hall. No wonder he was in such a crabby mood. And not having slept much at all last night certainly didn't help.

Had they accidentally walked into the wrong room? A teacher's lounge or something? But Alec glanced up and noticed the the desks and the old black board, all the usual signs of a classroom - even if the ceiling was too high and painted with religious images, and there were no windows in this particular room. Some of the students were taking their seats - but a good majority of the first years had gravitated over to a table at the front. No, not a table, an _overturned trashcan_, the liner draped over the top (bottom) like a makeshift table cloth. A steaming pot of coffee was resting on top of the trash can, no machine anywhere in sight, just the full pot, along with a leaning stack of mugs that looked like it was going to tip over and crash any second.

"Help yourselves," a low, pleasant voice invited, followed by a throaty chuckle.

Alec's chin jerked up. It was the same tall, glitter-encrusted professor from before, the one in charge of the wakeup call, the one who snapped their dinner onto their plates.

Warlock.

Those strange green-gold eyes were staring back at him now, lips curving at the edges. When Alec didn't look away, dark painted nails wiggled in hello.

That forced Alec to look away, embarrassed. Isabelle was tugging on his arm again, stealing a place in the coffee line and dragging him along with. He didn't try to pull away. Dazed, he fell into step behind her, waiting for her to remove a mug and pour, then it was his turn.

Alec lifted his hand to the stack. As he reached for the one on top, the whole thing teetered and started swaying right. Alec's reflexes were usually fast and on point. He reached out to stop the stack from falling, but he only had a grip on the bottom half, stilling five or six mugs. The remaining four were falling to the floor. He heard Isabelle gasp.

Then he realized it wasn't the near-accident that made her gasp. It was the fact that the falling mugs just froze there in mid-air, a foot off the floor, crisis averted.

"Careful now," the professor tsked, coming round Alec. A long, slender arm slid out in front of him, plucking the frozen mugs from the very air. The warlock set them down on top of the trash can-table in a new stack, out of harms' way.

"You shouldn't stack them so high," Alec pointed out, trying to cover up his own mortification. He usually wasn't so clumsy, especially around breakables.

"Thanks, mom. I'll do better next time," the warlock teased with a glittery wink. Alec gaped, not sure if was supposed to be angry or embarrassed.

Isabelle giggled beside him. He wanted to kick her so hard.

While he was staring at the man with his mouth still slack, the warlock chose a mug, poured the coffee into it three-quarters of the way, and snapped his fingers. A can of whipped cream appeared in his other hand.

"You take that," he advised, passing the hot mug off to Alec.

"I don't want-" Alec sputtered.

"You've never tried it," the warlock correctly guessed, shaking the can. Then he sprayed a light layer of whipped cream over the top of the steaming coffee, licking his fingers afterward.

And Alec was gaping again, holding the mug out in front of him and staring.

"Anyone else?" The professor asked, grinning around the end of his pointer.

Isabelle was quick to hold out her mug. "Just a little."

The warlock smiled, helping her to some whipped cream.

"Nice boots," the older man commented, glancing down.

Isabelle grinned, shooting Alec a look. He gave her a frown. "Thanks."

"I'm Magnus Bane," he introduced, extended her the free hand that wasn't holding the can of cream.

"Isabelle Lightwood," she greeted, shaking his hand.

"I know," Magnus replied, with another flourish of a wink.

"This is my brother, Alec," she gestured to Alec as he stood rigidly at her side.

"Pleasure to meet you," Magnus replied, his voice taking on a different note. It came out slower, lazier. Alec's cheeks warmed with color. This man was supposed to be their teacher, right? Why did it feel so awkward, then, the way he was being watched?

"Yeah. You too," Alec forced out, before rudely turning away. His eyes desperately scanned the vacant seats. Jace was sitting in the front row at the end. Alec moved to sit to the left of him, both hands tightly gripping the mug of coffee.

"Smooth," Jace muttered under his breath, with a barely there smirk.

"Shut up," Alec hissed, bowing his head over the cup so he didn't have to look at Jace, wishing his own hair would hide him.


	10. Interaction

**The Institute**  
a multi-chapter fan fic by ariviand

**Chapter Ten: Interaction  
**

"Anyone else?"

Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn, sometimes Professor at the Institute, stood by his makeshift refreshment table, making one last call for coffee. The pot, sans machine, still looked hot and fresh. Maybe it had even been magically refilled at some point too, because it looked at least half full.

A majority of the class had already helped themselves to a cup of Joe. The select few who didn't want to imbibe shook their heads at the final offer, squirming and trying to get comfortable in the old, creaking desk chairs. The coffee was a nice touch, but school is still school, and no one seemed particularly eager for the class to start, especially since they had no one idea what subject they were currently sitting in on.

"All right, then. Grab your mugs and your stuff, and follow me."

That was unexpected. Alec glanced over at Jace in question. Jace looked exasperated. It was just a trace of annoyance in his golden eyes that Alec recognized, though the rest of his features appeared calm. It was key to being parabatai, being able to sense one another's moods, as well as learning each others' strengths and weaknesses. Jace was far from an open book, but after several years' training and living side-by-side, Alec liked to think he was starting to get Jace.

Of course, just when he started thinking like that, Jace would do something else that seemed intentionally aimed at throwing him off and shutting him out. Like now. Jace rose from his desk without a word, walking in front of the first row of desks and moving to the door without waiting for him. Alec scrambled to follow, rounding the overturned trash can cautiously, squeamish about bumping the stacks of mugs a second time.

It was a curious sight: the line of darkly-clad, uniformed students trailing behind an elaborately dressed warlock who waved them ahead with a hand covered in large rings and shining, painted nails. It was like night and day, hard to believe they co-existed in the same world. It certainly put it into perspective, the vast differences between Downworlders and Shadowhunters. Did the high warlock intentionally go to extremes to prove a point?

Alec considered his own preference for nondescript, ill-fitted black clothes. Alec subscribed to a completely different mode of thought. Flashy was bad, form-fitted clothes were functional, but not something he wore to flatter. Shoes should be kept polished and free of scuff marks, but beyond that, he wasn't terribly concerned about his footwear.

His sister, Isabelle, was another case entirely. Her room at home was all glitter and metallic paint on the walls, feather boas lining her bureau and an array of loud clothes strewn about the small space. She loved short skirts and slinky fabrics and jewelry was best friend, second maybe to a high stiletto shoe and lethal boots. She was always doing something with her hair, even when she was just getting ready to work out. Alec didn't understand all the wasted time and effort, and tried to write it off as Isabelle being a girl and he, obviously being a boy.

But now Alec had to admit she had a lot in common with the outlandish warlock. It was no wonder they seemed to rub on so well from the get go.

That thought made Alec scowl, remembering how embarrassed he had been when Isabelle drew the Professor's attention to him. Maybe she thought she was doing him some kind of favor, making introductions. But to Alec, it felt mocking.

Even if the warlock was as ostentatiously gay as he looked, the fact that Alec was also gay was none of his business. Even if Alec was looking to date - and he _wasn't_, he didn't need or want his sister's help in hooking him up. He didn't want anyone at school to know, least of all some warlock who wouldn't know discretion if it bit him on the-

Alec flushed and looked away. He decided to strike that saying from his word bank altogether.

"Alec."

"Shut up," Alec snapped unfairly, assuming Isabelle was just going to make fun of his inexplicable blush.

Instead, she tugged on his arm and led him right. Alec hadn't realized the other students had turned down the hall and in his abstraction, he'd nearly kept walking and left them behind. His sister had saved him further embarrassment, steering him back on course.

Fine. They were even now.

"So. What do you think?"

"What?"

Isabelle looked at him with dark brows raised. She'd released his arm and kept her stride matched with his. They were both tall and slender, their natural walk pretty fast. Alec usually looked like he rushed out of agitation, whereas Isabelle made it look more like the long-gait stride of a runway walk. The heeled boots certainly helped that image.

"Don't you think he's nice?"

"Who?"

"Magnus Bane."

"Hush," Alec warned as soon as the words came out of her mouth. Hello! The man was just a few feet from them, and everyone knew that Downworlders had sensitive hearing. Isabelle might as well have been screaming and pointing at the warlock's tall shoulders.

"Well?" Isabelle persisted, not willing to let it go so easily. Obviously mortifying her brother wasn't an issue for her. It was routine.

Alec kept his lips stubbornly pressed together, trying to look ahead _without_ letting the shiny warlock in his field of vision. That was pretty difficult to manage, since he _shimmered_ and seemed to dominate the dark hallway.

By night, the Institute was lit by candles lining the long corridors in intervals. During the day, the place relied on natural lighting peeking through the windows. Alec squinted every time they passed one.

Alec jumped at the sudden swat to his arm.

"What the f-"

"You like him," Isabelle decided. If it wasn't bad enough that she'd said that aloud, the very self-satisfied smile that went with it really bothered Alec. Hands curling into fists, nails digging into his palms, Alec quickened his step even more, leaving her behind. He shouldered ahead in the line until he was walking beside Jace, wondering why he hadn't caught up with him sooner.

_Because you can't stop thinking about your Professor?_

**UGH! **Put like that, it just made it worse. Alec was resolved _not _to think anymore about Magnus Bane, not to acknowledge the warlock in any way except what was demanded of him as a student participating in class. Hell, he wouldn't even raise his hand to offer answers. He'd sit and be sullen and make a point of not looking at the man at all for the duration of the class.

Well, that was all well and good. But then the door at the end of the hall was shoved open and Alec was temporarily blinded by the sunlight streaming in.

When his vision cleared again and Alec brought a hand up to shield his eyes from the glare, he couldn't help but notice the warlock as he pushed off from the door, passing off the burden of holding it open to the next student in line. As their Professor stepped outside, the glitter on his bare arms danced. The undersized t-shirt he wore rode high against his lower back. Alec couldn't help but stare, under the spell of so much distracting body glitter and smooth, uninterrupted skin. It was lightly tanned, an exotic caramel shade that Alec had never seen before. It didn't even seem real. No scars, no ink, just silver glitter dusted over light gold skin.

The same silver glitter was all in his hair, making it twinkle - because it didn't draw enough attention that Magnus Bane's hair was standing up in all directions, neatly arranged in shining black spikes. Alec wondered if the warlock's hair doubled as a weapon. There was no way there could be any softness left in that hair, after the overuse of gel and glitter.

And yet, Alec couldn't deny the sudden impulse to reach out and touch it...

_Damnit! _

This was no good! Alec had seen attractive boys before. Of course. He met a number of boys at mundane school that visited him in his dreams and made the locker room a really uncomfortable experience for him, but Alec always kept it under wraps. If it really started to bother him, the unwanted attraction to other people, he just sublimated his desire and ignored the source of said desire until it went away. Somehow he talked himself out of it. Whether it was out of fear or insecurity, Alec always convinced himself that it wasn't healthy, that it was in fact dangerous for a shadowhunter to entertain an attraction to the same sex, that he shouldn't look, much less think about another boy. He decided not to acknowledge them as anything more than a friend or a classmate or just another body in a room that was not in the least significant, and that was it.

He turned it off and it was done.

That was exactly what Alec was trying to do now, and for whatever reason, it wasn't working.

That had only happened once before. And Alec was only half-willing to acknowledge his attraction to Jace, even to himself. But he wasn't even thinking about Jace at the moment, didn't realize that his parabatai had turned his bright eyes to study Alec curiously as the other boy openly gaped at their Professor.

"Professor?"

It was Isabelle speaking. Alec knew that without even turning to look. He clenched his teeth suddenly.

"Yes, Isabelle?" Magnus Bane replied, casually draping his body along one of the park benches. Why couldn't he just sit down like a normal person? That couldn't be comfortable.

The warlock gestured for them all to take a seat on the grass. Alec sank down heavily, still holding his breath. Isabelle took a seat right beside him, Jace on the other side. Jace was still looking at him as if he'd lost mind.

"What are we doing out here?" Isabelle asked. She sounded a little annoyed. Alec finally let his breath out, turning to glance at his sister. Oh, yes, she was squinting unpleasantly under the glare of the sun, not altogether happy to be sitting in the grass in her uniform skirt, though she'd folded her booted calves beneath her.

"I thought we could work on our tan while talking shop," Bane answered with a throaty chuckle.

"We're wearing uniforms," the broad-shoulder first year pointed out. Alec thought her name was May, or something like that.

"And polyester doesn't breathe," Jace added, frowning.

Magnus Bane, the only one adequately dressed for the sun exposure, at least from the waist up, waved his hand dismissively. "Then take it off."

"What?" Alec said, incredulous.

The warlock looked right at him and winked. Even the skin across his eyelid glittered. "Take off your jackets and roll up your sleeves, if you want," the professor clarified.

Isabelle was one of the first to cast the outer layer off, rolling the cotton of her starch white uniform shirt up past her elbows. Alec winced as she did, knowing there would be so many wrinkles beneath the folds in the fabric. And Isabelle didn't iron.

There was a rustle of fabric to Alec's right. Jace had cast aside his jacket too and loosened his tie. Several buttons on his shirt were loose and he was working on the sleeves as Alec turned his head away, though not fast enough to avoid a glimpse of pale throat and the familiar runes marking the top of his chest.

It's not as if he hadn't seen the other boy bared to the waist before. They never sparred with shirts, and they had changed in the same room together countless times. But Alec was hyper-aware of everyone scaling down around him, and it was all Magnus Bane's fault. He'd started it with that shirt maneuver earlier. He drew Alec's attention exactly where it didn't want to go, and now even the sight of Jace's naked forearms and a bit of exposed neck was really bothering him.

Alec was steaming in his full uniform, but he didn't dare remove the coat or touch the buttons. Sweat rolled down the sides of his face beneath his mussed hair and he sat stubborn and uncomfortable as the professor began speaking again.

Alec glared at the warlock, cursing him fifty ways to Friday within his head.

This was supposed to be a course in Downworlder relations. He gleaned that much from the lesson. But as it stood at the moment, Downworlders were not very high on Alec's list. He didn't trust them, especially Magnus Bane.


	11. Indecision

**The Institute**  
a multi-chapter fan fic by ariviand

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters from The Mortal Instruments series by Cassandra Clare. There are a few original characters in this story, but I'm trying to make them few and far between, just as a personal challenge. How many of TMI characters can we fit in the Institute?

**A/N: **I actually wrote this chapter right after I published the last one. For whatever reason, I decided it wasn't right and I just sat on it for a while. Granted, it's a lot of internal debate on Alec's part, but I don't think it's that bad? It was necessary for continuing the Malec. But I promise more action in the next chapter, OK? Lemme know what you think.

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Indecision  
**

"So what does it mean, being a High Warlock?" Clary asked. Her short stature seemed to lose a few inches every time the circle of students glanced her way. It probably had something to do with the slouch of her shoulders. It was bad posture, even seated informally in the grass.

"Obviously, it means he's bad ass," the dark-haired boy to Clary's left pointed out, flicking their Professor a grin. It was honest brown-nosing, though the way the boy looked at the warlock made Alec scowl. He looked suspiciously between student and teacher.

Magnus Bane just seemed to let the compliment roll off him, shrugging his right shoulder as he picked at something under his nail. Or was he chipping at the polish?

"It means I don't have to go door to door peddling my wares."

"So, you just sit around in your cushy flat and make the good people of New York come to you when they're in a bind?" Jace asked. Alec twitched at his tone, definitely mocking.

Again, a barely affected shrug from the warlock, still intent on his fingernails. "The flat isn't so cushy, but the job pays the rent - which is insanely high for Williamsburg."

"Brooklyn," Alec said, with a disapproving frown.

Thing is, Alec didn't realize he'd said it out loud. It was the first time he'd spoken up since his one-word earlier. This time Magnus Bane lifted his chin and stared at the young shadowhunter with intense green-gold eyes.

With eyes like that, it always looked intense. But he really was staring at Alec. Alec tried not to back down or look away, though he could feel his face heating up. The sweat ran down the curve of his back, tickling his spine. He was already burning up from the layers of cotton and polyester under the late morning sun.

The stare lasted so long, Alec's fingers started to dig into his palms. He could feel Jace's eyes on his face, probably waiting for him to tell the Downworlder off, professor or no. Alec wished he could, something along the lines of 'what the hell are you looking at?' or 'eye problem?'. But he'd never mouthed off to a teacher in his life, and though Magnus Bane didn't quite seem to fit the bill, Alec wasn't going to tarnish his record now.

"That's right," the warlock finally replied in a lazy drawl, mouth turning up at the corners. He was smiling, his eyes flickering, so that his lashes swept down, gaze lowering and panning back up. Alec moved only to blink and tighten his jaw.

"Uptown boy, yourself?" Magnus asked of Alec. The question was so informal for the class setting, Alec clearly balked.

Before he could stammer through an answer, Isabelle was asking the professor a question about the neighborhood where he lived, something about the parties.

Alec sank back onto his heels, feeling lightheaded. _What was going on?_ Maybe he was just flustered and being paranoid, but the staring, the down-up looks, the personal questions, the winking - it was all starting to add up in Alec's mind. The fact that it was _just_ starting to was probably a testament to the fact that Alec was very, very sexually repressed and often chose to ignore when other people were paying him attention. Any kind of attention had become an inconvenience and an annoyance, but it didn't register as anything else.

Isabelle and Jace seemed to bask in the attraction of other people. Alec was oblivious to it. Actually, he was in denial. But it's not like Magnus Bane was trying to be subtle.

Sweat beaded above his upper lip. Alec impatiently swiped at the moisture, mulling over the shock of this new information. He didn't know what to feel about it. He certainly didn't know what to _do_ about it.

A part of him wanted to storm inside as soon as class had ended and demand to speak to the headmaster. And if he still hadn't returned to the Institute from his unexplained absence, then maybe Alec would go to Professor Starkweather. He ought to know that one of his staff was hitting on first-years. That just wasn't done! It was completely inappropriate, not to mention stressful for the student involved.

But was that really what he was feeling? Stressed? Repulsed? Indignant?

No. That was the anger talking.

Did it really bother him that their Professor was paying him special attention? Yes...and no. It was rude to stare, and Alec didn't like the whole class seeing him do it. They had to know it wasn't just curiosity. Alec wasn't much to look at - he certainly wasn't _that_ fascinating! Isabelle and Jace were going to harass him the minute this was over, and that's really what Alec couldn't stand. The embarrassment, the teasing.

Because it was the first time that he could remember, that anyone had looked at him like that.

If only it wasn't a flashy warlock doing the looking. And his _professor_, at that.

And it would be nice if it wasn't so very public. Really, everything about the scenario was wrong. If Jace looked at him like that, it would be perfect. If some random boy looked at him like that, preferably with no one else looking, Alec thought maybe that would be OK.

But not like this.

Maybe he was imagining it. Reassuring thought, that. Maybe he was making too much of the attention he received from the warlock. He was weird. No one would deny that. And he probably looked at every boy in an uniform like that. Alec was just blowing it out of proportion. He was no more fascinating to Magnus Bane than the flecks of paint chipping from his perfectly manicured fingernails.

This little inner-peptalk made Alec feel marginally better. It wouldn't spare him the torment from Jace and Isabelle, but at least he was convinced that his professor was _not_ crushing on him, which would save him a trip to the headmaster's office, possible mediation with the high warlock himself, and even being forced to leave the school before the first day was out.

Alec shuddered at the thought, very glad that was not the case. He couldn't imagine such a shameful outcome, a failure from the very start.

There was movement behind them, coming from the main building. The heavy door leading outside was being shoved open. A train of students promptly filtered out into the yard.

"Time's up, baby cakes," Magnus Bane drawled from his reclined position on the park bench. He threw in a dismissive gesture, giving the class permission to scatter.

Alec realized he'd completely missed out on the last few minutes of class. But hopefully it was nothing vital. The actual lesson had ended half the way through, without so much as an outline or some idea of how they would be spending the remainder of the term.

Alec was starting to wonder if Downworlder Relations would be the Institute's version of a free period. Aside from Alec's discomfort concerning the professor and his intense eyes, that might not be so bad. The memorization involved in Demonology sounded hardcore. Obviously, there would be at least one class with a physical component - probably several. His father had mentioned combat training, which in his day had been a mixed class conducted to both first years and upperclassmen. Jace had looked forward to the idea of sparring with people other than him, giving him the chance to show off, and it was an excuse to pair off with someone other than Alec.

Although that was necessary for their training, Alec didn't completely welcome the idea like Jace did. He was fine with their small group. He didn't mind training side by side with Jace and occasionally Isabelle, and no one else. But that's not how it was going to be at the Institute. The classes might be small, but it was no longer just about the three of them.

Point being, with other classes on his mind, and his body devoted to training, if it meant Alec was forced to drink a cup of coffee each morning between classes and had to tone out the tedious conversations between the warlock and Alec's chatty classmates, then he'd tolerate the occasional staring and keep his head down.

Problem solved, further embarrassment averted. It wasn't going to be awkward. It definitely wasn't going to jeopardize his opportunity to graduate from the Institute and follow in his parents' footsteps.

Armed with his new resolve, Alec got up smoothly and dusted off his trousers, making a face at the smudges left from grass stains.

Jace was shrugging back into his uniform jacket, straightening his tie. Alec fought the impulse to offer to help him with the tie. Jace's fingers made quick work of straightening the knot, without the aid of a mirror, as if they all wore suits every day. No big deal.

Alec was glad he hadn't thought to touch his own tie. He did readjust his jacket against his shoulders, the little movement fanning cool against against his back, where his shirt was sticking to his moist skin unpleasantly. Ugh. He could really go for a shower and change of clothes.

But obviously that wasn't on the agenda. The class was already filing back inside.

Sighing, Alec felt back into step with his sister, ignoring the pointed looks she directed his way. At least she had the good sense to remain silent. For now.


	12. Identity

**The Institute**  
a multi-chapter fan fic by ariviand

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters from The Mortal Instruments series by Cassandra Clare.

**A/N: **All right. Last update I promised action. Here you have it. Sorry again about the wait.**  
**

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Identity  
**

Alec could hear Isabelle's boots clicking down the hall beside him, but fortunately, his sister hadn't brought up last period or tried to tease him about their professor. The only thing she had said was "it feels so much better in here," to which he nodded. The AC was welcome, though it would feel even better if they could take off their jackets, or even change into something more comfortable altogether. Like a baggy sweaters and slacks. His usual.

Alec had vaguely wondered if one of the students in the class was not as clueless as the rest of them seemed to be. Someone was always leading the line exactly where they needed to go, while the rest of the first years hadn't even been provided with a proper schedule. There was something strange about that, but Alec didn't have much time to investigate the theory, because a door was creaking open ahead and the others were filing into their next class room.

Soon Alec was walking through the open door as well, right after Isabelle.

No, it wasn't a classroom. He recognized the smell of body heat, of hardwood and resin, of metal weaponry and determination.

It was a training room.

Suddenly, all the indecision from the last class faded into insignificance and Alec could actually feel a smiling tugging at his lips. Jace was beaming, cracking his knuckles like he couldn't wait to get to work. Isabelle looked nonplussed, though Alec knew she would enjoy the class just as much as they did - although she definitely needed a change in footwear.

"Good morning," a friendly voice greeted from the corner of the room.

There was a little gasp from the redheaded girl. She obviously recognized their professor.

The broad-shouldered man gave the girl a little smile, before addressing the class again. "Welcome to your favorite class at the Institute: Combat training."

There was a pleasant hum and a number of grins going around as the first years received confirmation. Of course, shadowhunters were eager to take a break from book-learning and get down to the physical component in their education. Their bodies were primed for the exercise, and there was an undeniable thrill every time they entered into a fight. Alec could feel the energy and exciting thrumming throughout his entire body, from his temple down to his fingertips, which he curled in restlessly against his palms.

"My name is Luke Graymark." A few students gasped in delayed recognition. The man continued to scan the room, leaning back against one of the mirrors set against the wall. There was something about his eyes, so bright even in the shadows of the room.

"You were a member of the Circle," Jace said, his tone respectful and in awe.

"Yes," The man answered, but paused so long Alec wasn't sure if he was going to say anything more on the subject. If he didn't, well, no one would blame him. But then Luke Graymark cleared his throat. "I was a young shadowhunter once, like you. Before there was any thought of war, I was just a student. A very bad student, at that." The professor chuckled, crossing his muscular forearms across his chest. Alec studied that detail distractedly. He was so toned. But there was something else, not just the mark of a seasoned fighter.

Strangely enough, Alec could make out a few scars across the older man's arms, the pale, shining white of trace scars on his throat, but no prominent, remotely fresh Marks. Maybe he didn't apply them anymore, being retired from active duty, so to speak.

"Intense training allowed me to bear my first Marks, to kill my first demon, to have any chance of calling myself a shadowhunter. Of course, it was in my blood, same as it is in yours. But not everyone has the power and the will to fulfill their destiny. I nearly lost hope."

This seemed like such a strange confession coming from the infamous Lucian Graymark, who had fought beside Valentine. He had had the courage to walk away from the Circle, though there had been a big question mark as to what had become of the man after that. Some suspected he had been murdered by Valentine. Others thought a natural death for a shadowhunter - a premature death, had found Graymark during the troubled time. But the former seemed more likely; no one crossed Valentine. He was like the evil villain in children stories, devious and powerful and willing to go to terrifying lengths to meet his goal. It was a name that still caused the younger generation to shudder and recoil when they heard it - even when the man was supposed to be dead.

"How did you-" Alec caught himself asking, then his face heated up, and he trailed off, realizing it sounded impertinent. Besides, he was interrupting.

"Survive him?" Luke guessed. Alec was keenly aware that he still hadn't mentioned Valentine's name, and that was just as well. It was uncomfortable for everyone involved when the subject came up, that dark splotch on shadowhunter history.

"I nearly didn't," the professor answered, his tone grave. Everyone was quiet, and the silence was awkward.

"He was my _parabatai _once. It was only with his tutelage and his urging, that I made anything of myself. I nearly chose the existence of a mundane to escape my own overwhelming failure. It should have been my birthright, and maybe I naively thought it would come naturally, but as you know by now, it's something you must work at. It takes great concentration, courage, and heart. But with the proper encouragement, and the support of your brothers, you can work on your weaknesses and regain your sense of self. That is something you must never lose, the belief in what you are. Find strength inside you. You shouldn't have to give yourself over completely to someone else to find your own worth."

Not satisfied that the original explanation had veered off course, one of the students worked up the nerve to ask, "But what about Val-"

Luke Graymark cut him off just in time, before the name was spoken. "I didn't share his hate or his vision of the destruction of our world as we know it. I left before the worst of it, and I paid a high price for what he considered a betrayal of the Circle. And as it happened, I became the very thing he hates: a Downworlder."

If the silence was awkward before, it became painfully thick.

But Alec's mind was spinning ahead, making sense of all the details that had been bothering him: the lack of Marks, the strong build, the shining eyes. If he had been a Downworlder as well, he might have even noticed the scent of the man was off. He would have known immediately upon walking in the room, instead of spending several curious minutes on guesswork, staring at Luke Graymark looking for answers.

He was a werewolf.

Alec's heart sank for him. Everyone knew enough about lycanthropes to figure out what had happened. Lucian was born a shadowhunter, a part of their world. At some point he was bitten and turned into something else.

But if that fact bothered him, Luke still seemed confidant in his own skin. There was no regret on his face. He didn't shy away from a class full of first years as they studied him with interest. Eventually the professor pushed off the wall, straightening to his full height. And then he reached into the vee of his shirt and removed a pair of eyeglasses, sliding them into place over his blue eyes. The effect was kind of strange, a werewolf needing prescription glasses.

"So, enough about me. Why don't we get started?" Luke invited.

Jace was among the first to throw off his uniform jacket in the excitement, eager to train.

Alec followed suit, glancing over at his _parabatai_. It was reassuring. Usually when the subject of Valentine came up, Jace got really irritated and shut himself off. Unfortunately, he hadn't been watching the boy during Luke's introduction, too distracted by the were to notice. But if he had been looking at Jace instead, he would have sent him reassuring glances, hoping to comfort him, even if it was never something Jace seemed to want, sympathy or comfort. Still, that didn't change the fact that he needed and deserved it.

"For those of you who don't want to get your fresh new uniform dirty, I'll give you five minutes to run back to your rooms and change. Girls, this especially means you. You can't fight in skirts. Sorry, boys."

Several boys, including Jace, chuckled at the thought. Alec merely scowled, not seeing the appeal.

Alec waited impatiently for those five minutes to be up, having rolled up his sleeves and removed his shoes. Jace had removed his shirt entirely, a fact Alec was trying not to notice. But that was like trying to ignore the fact that the street had opened up in central Manhattan and a huge blue, fire-breathing dragon was picking off pedestrians and taxi cabs. There was no way you could not notice something like that. And the color of Jace's skin was this fine gradient between pale and tan, a kind of honey gold, and it was so _smooth _in spite of the scarring and Marks, so smooth that Alec really wanted to-

Digging his fingers into his palms, Alec tried to think of the redhead, Clary, doing a roundhouse kick in a skirt. He imagined she was wearing granny panties and had massively hairy legs, until the image was so revolting that he was able to get control of himself again.

And then the other students were filtering back into the room and Alec let out a relieved breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

"All right. We're going to pair off in a minute. You can pick your partners." Alec knew immediately who his partner was going to be, and he didn't doubt for a moment that Jace would accept without thinking. But then the door creaked open again and a group of unfamiliar students entered the training room. Alec frowned at them, annoyed by the interruption.

"First years. These are the students in the class ahead of you. As has been tradition in combat training for generations, you will be training alongside older students. I want you to be challenged. I want you to fight with people who have some experience. You'll be helping each other out in this class, and if at any point you feel like this isn't fair, just remember: next year you'll have the privilege of taking on our new first years. Maybe that will sustain you," Luke chuckled. Alec spared Jace a glance. The blond was smiling, although that smile looked hungry.

He was too ready to pound a second year into the ground. It was exactly what Jace wanted.

So much for sticking together. Alec glanced back at the row of new students dispassionately, taking their measure. If he couldn't pair off with Jace, then he supposed it didn't really matter who his partner was. He wasn't going to be intimidated by someone only a year older than he was.


	13. Iron

**The Institute**  
a multi-chapter fan fic by ariviand

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters from The Mortal Instruments series by Cassandra Clare.

**A/N: **Sorry if this is a little rough. I wrote it in parts. Will run through it again in the morning and edit it a little more. I just wanted to get it out tonight; that was my goal. So here you are.**  
**

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: Iron  
**

While the first years got their fill of the new students, pairing off within their minds before their professor gave them leave to make their decisions, Lucian Graymark started in on his overview of the class. Maybe he knew from experience that, once the fighting began, it would be pointless trying to get the shadowhunters to stop and focus on what he was saying - not that he had their whole attention at the moment, either; they were too anxious and eager to begin.

"This year, you won't just be learning technique and enjoying the thrill of combat with someone who is not a demon. I hope to teach you survival, because let's be frank, guys. In a real situation, you're not going to be in a safe setting like this, where you can see clearly and there's always someone looking over your shoulder to stop the action if it goes too far. Sometimes you'll be alone in the dark, with no weapons and only your experience and fear to back you. And fear is the perfect motivator.

"That's why very few of our lessons are going to be simulated. We will be fighting with real weapons, and every time you throw a punch or lift your blade, you could potentially hurt your opponent. Now, if we were a mundane fencing class, you'd be padded within an inch of your life and wouldn't be able to do much more than tap another student with the end of your foil. Here, you will learn to defend yourself properly, to avoid being hit and to act on the offensive through real trial and error. If you don't move fast enough, you will get cut; you will be thrown down; you will be burned. Next time, move faster. If you hurt your partner, you will help them with the iratze, unless they'd rather suffer through it. Personaly, I'd advise against that kind of attitude; war wounds are not a badge of pride, and they won't earn you bonus points with me; they're a handicap that will only get you hurt again.

"But my point, ladies and gentlemen, is that there's no time to be squeamish; only serious injuries will earn you a trip to the infirmary, so you'll learn fast to suck it up, to make the iratze in less than ten seconds and push on."

Professor Graymark paused for a moment, blue eyes traveling around the room. Very few of the first years looked upset by this explanation; either they were prepared or the knowledge that this was going to be a rough class didn't phase them. Apparently it's popular nickname, Beheading 101, wasn't entirely an exaggeration. It might sound brutal, but this sort of training was only a small slice of what they were going to experience one day, after all - so it would be fairly embarrassing if anyone cried off now.

When no one appeared to be edging towards the door to leave and the restless energy started to become palpable within the quiet training room, Luke smiled. "All right, then. Let's pair off and get started."

* * *

Jace sprang back up to his feet, glaring at the other boy. The backs of his elbows were scraped and his head pounded, but it was manageable. He'd certainly experienced worse.

The second year's greasy black hair fell across his dark eyes, but he was clearly smiling in pleasure, having brought down the blond for the third time since the period began.

"How did it feel that time, Wayland?"

"Pain is just a distraction," Jace replied, throwing out his arm as if to punch the other boy. Instead of using a balled up fist, he butt at Sebastian's pale, angular chin with the heel of his hand, clipping his jaw. He liked the sound his pretty teeth made, clinking together.

Luke Graymark walked past, nodding his approval.

Sebastian bounded back a few steps, his boots scraping across the floor, but he didn't fall.

Unfortunately they were only engaged in hand-to-hand combat today. Next week, the professor promised they would start introducing weapons. Jace was looking forward to taking a seraph blade to his new partner's face. This whole partner thing was nothing like it should be, training alongside your parabatai. It was nothing like the preliminary training he had received beside Alec and Isabelle, for example. There was more comradery within their private lessons; sure, there was teasing and taunting and occasional arguments, but for the most part, it was constructive and supportive.

Instead of the company he was used to keeping for training purposes, Jace already knew that Sebastian had the perfect markings of an enemy and rival; the plus being that now they would have the excuse to do each other bodily injury every class, the downside being that they had to stop short of killing each other.

The older boy had approached him at the start of the class. Jace knew the kid had been watching him earlier, felt those dark eyes on him and a few times he had glanced back at the other boy, brows raised, challenging the stare. When he proposed they pair off, it was all the same to Jace. Someone would have to be on the receiving end.

Jace noticed that Alec had been paired off with a girl. He must be _loving _that. He never seemed to have much patience with other girls, except for his sister - and even then, it was different. She had obvious limitations in her upper body strength, though she packed one vicious kick and Jace imagined she could asphyxiate someone with ease with the pressure of her thighs, wrapped around tight. Besides, she could wield a whip with greater accuracy than most people could manage a blade. It was one savage weapon.

Jace was glad he didn't have to pair off with a girl. He liked an even fight. Also, he didn't want to feel conflicted about hitting a girl. Hitting on a girl was fine, but actually _hitting_ one just didn't sit right. The whole role of women in shadowhunter society as fighters was a relatively recent concept, so, it wasn't that strange to hesitate.

But from the glimpse he caught, Alec didn't really appear to be bothered by the idea.

At one point, the female upperclassman was trying to rake her nails across Alec's face. His parabatai grabbed the girl's wrist and turned her forearm until she cried out, begging to be released. Luke passed by the pair and shook his head, muttering something along the lines of "reaction time." The girl flushed in humiliation, stepping back in order to regroup. The girl was favoring her shoulder, the wrenched muscle protesting.

Alec asked if she was all right. "Do you want to stop for a minute?"

"No," the girl hissed, tossing her dark hair back out of her eyes.

Alec nodded, taking his stance. And then they came together again. She deflected his striking hand and he pulled back. She lashed out with her leg and he side-stepped it, his arm coming across and impacting with her side. Again, she cried out and stumbled a little to the right, grabbing at her waist from the pain.

"Now?" Alec asked, trying to ask her if she wanted to stop without injuring her dignity further. He could see the concern in Alec's pale eyes, though he was trying to keep a stern face.

"No!" She snarled, throwing an erratic blow towards his face. Alec's eyes went wide and he stumbled back. But as soon as his foot was grounded, his own arm went out, blocking hers. There was the smacking collision of their forearms, then the rush of the displaced air as they moved away again, preparing for the next strike.

"TIME!" Luke called, stopping them all mid-action.

The pairs broke apart, most students breathing heavily, a few nursing obvious wounds.

Alec scanned the room quickly for Jace, satisfied to see the other boy looked unharmed. He was sweating profusely and he was red-faced, but that was it. Then Alec's glance strayed towards Isabelle. She was gingerly removing her shoes, favoring her left side.

"Izz," Alec called, snatching up his jacket and heading over to her. His uniform shirt was soaked. Next time, he could have to take removing it into serious consideration, despite his reservations.

"I'm fine," she said immediately, shoulders tensing.

"You're not fine," he disagreed, leaning into her, wordlessly offering his support.

"Don't baby me, OK? Not here," she muttered under her breath, unzipping one of her boots. Clearly, she meant to change into the unpractical footwear, despite the pain. "I told you I'm fine. It's just a sprain."

"Well, then, let's fix it..."

"No," Isabelle replied, and it was final.

Alec understood that it was a blow to her pride, taking a hit to an older student in front of everyone. But their professor had warned them against suffering for the sake of saving face, and it was exactly the wrong thing to do anyway, when they still had to make it through the second half of their day of classes.

"Isabelle," Alec tried half-heartedly. But he remained standing in place as she grabbed her bag and walked out of the room, trying so hard not to let on that she was hurting. But he knew her stride too well to believe it. She was too stiff.

Jace brushed past him on the way out, brow raised.

"What are you waiting for?" Jace asked, gesturing towards the door. The high color in his face was fading. "It's time to eat."

"Seriously?" Alec asked, perking up at the thought.

"What do you think it will be? Raw pretty food on a plate? Fairie delights?"

"Ugh. I hope not. I'm too hungry." By which Alec meant, he'd be forced to starve, for his own safety. Fairie fare might be visually appealing, and often enticing to the senses - forbidden fruit in every sense of the word, but it was exactly the wrong thing to eat. It was like Eve to the apple. If you took a bite, you'd wish you had resisted - that is, if you returned to some form of sanity.

"I don't mind. Then I could enjoy the rest of my day."

"You might not be able to remember your own name," Alec tsked, frowning as they left the training room.

"I can live with that," Jace replied with a little smile. Alec shook his head, but had no ready retort, too preoccupied with Isabelle's discomfort, and worrying for her, of course, for the balance of the term. He could have predicted Jace would throw himself into combat training with extreme enthusiasm, and that was something he would have to stomach, because Jace would manage on his own. But Alec would not have predicted this, that Isabelle would get hurt and refuse to be treated. It would only get worse from here.

Scowling as they walked in the direction of the dining hall, he was relieved that Jace had nothing for the moment to say, offering only his radiating body heat and the occasional waft of his clean hair and sweat, which Alec was able to ignore thanks to his distraction. He had enough on his plate, without fixating on how good Jace looked in uniform issue pants or how he could be the one person that made _sweat_ appealing.


	14. Irritation

**The Institute**  
a multi-chapter fan fic by ariviand

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters from The Mortal Instruments series by Cassandra Clare.

**A/N: **All right, I'm back. Sorry if the updates seem to come further apart. I'm also working on Silhouette and ideas for Between Burroughs. It's not that I've forgotten any of you who are reading and alerting this story - and thank you very much for doing so. I'm open to ideas, and any kind of push you can give me to keep at it, I love it. I need it.

If you have any particular requests for classes, for characters you'd like to see, scenarios you'd like to happen, whatever, hit me up with it. I have rough outlines of what I want to happen, but as for the details, I'm making up a lot of it chapter by chapter. I know I shouldn't admit that, but sometimes that's how I roll. I'm very impromptu writer. How's it working out?

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: Irritation  
**

Lunch at the Institute was a less formal affair. Maybe it was because it was only meant to be a brief, light break between busy classes - or maybe it was a clever way to cut back costs. None the less, it certainly seemed to be far more casual than dinner, and not quite as fulfilling.

There were no faery foods or disappearing acts with dessert. It was simple deli and a variety of cold salads. Alec picked at a bit of fruit, going for the sour pieces of apple and green grapes, while Isabelle plucked chips from a communal pile with her left hand, texting discretely with her right. He was curious to know who she was texting throughout the lunch period, and how irritated she would be if he tried to broach the subject of her injured leg again.

Ultimately, he decided to let it go for now. Whoever she was talking to, Isabelle was smiling at the screen she hid just beneath the table, and a happy Isabelle was a lot easier to relate to than an angry one. It would make it easier on everyone if he allowed her to self-medicate in her way for now, provided her mood improved. So he decided to bide his time.

Jace took full advantage of the fact that neither of the Lightwoods seemed particularly hungry. He helped himself to their untouched sandwiches, and even commandeered Alec's chips without asking, piling them in between the layered pieces of bread and meat.

Alec caught him in the act of preparing this unnecessarily tall sandwich, which looked more food sculpture than entree.

"What are you doing?" Alec asked, frowning at his parabatai.

"What?" Jace asked innocently, curling both hands around the sandwich, supporting the base and keeping the side tucked in, in order to prevent an embarrassing - but seemingly inevitable collapse of the carefully arranged layers.

"You can't seriously mean to eat-" But even as the doubtful words came out of Alec's mouth, Jace was bringing the thing to his mouth and taking a shameless bite of the oversized sandwich, the chips making a loud crunching sound as Jace bit down and began to chew.

"Ugh," Alec responded, turning away. He couldn't watch it.

Through the mouthful, Jace managed to chuckle. Alec secretly hoped he would choke. It was ridiculous.

"I wonder what's next," Isabelle said abruptly, her phone sliding closed with a noticeable click. Did her texting partner have to go?

"I've no idea," Alec answered honestly, irritated by that fact. How hard would it be to provide them each with a paper printout detailing what each of their classes were, and where they were held and when? Wasn't that both common and expected? There was something reassuring in knowing what to anticipate next. Besides, it was easier to prepare, both mentally and physically, with some notion of what class they were about to walk into. Like their last period, for example - valuable training time would not have been wasted, had they known to dress properly. Now they would be better-prepared, of course, but it was the principle of the thing.

"Maybe we'll learn about the art of feng shui," Jace replied. Alec barely glanced at him sidelong, wondering how he'd managed to swallow successfully.

"Doubtful," Alec retorted, taking another small handful of grapes, rolling the cool fruit around in his palm for a moment before selecting one at random and popping it into his cheek. He liked the green ones better than the red. They were more tart and flavorful - at least that's what he thought. Besides, he liked the color. That was a strange deciding factor, maybe. It definitely wasn't something he'd admit out loud. "What would be the benefit of learning how to rearrange our furniture? That has nothing to do with being a shadowhunter. And we're not going to achieve inner peace, whether the couch is against the wall or in front of the window."

"That was deep," Jace commended, snickering in spite of another full mouth. Fortunately his lips were closed.

"That's pessimistic," Isabelle murmured, her eyes downcast, trained yet again on her phone. Apparently her partner had returned. "There's no reason you can't find peace, even if we are stuck in this sadistic private school."

"It's hardly as bad as all that," Alec retorted, personally insulted by Isabelle's description of the Institute. "You get to wear your own shoes."

"Exactly," Jace agreed, picking up a stray chip that must have fallen from his sandwich. "Which in your case makes you a masochist. They don't force us to wear three inch heels."

"No less than seven, on a good day," Isabelle replied, to which Jace whistled, and Alec stared at her, sure he had heard her wrong. Her boots were not really that tall, were they? If so, it might explain why she was in such discomfort. Combat training was only the half of it, if she was really doing that kind of damage to her ankles outside of class.

"Maybe we'll have a period to meditate," Alec mused, running with the inner peace idea - not that he would realistically be able to relax if it came to that, a class full of other students humming and chanting in another language, forced to visualize green fields and sunshine with their eyes closed and their crossed legs going numb on the bare floor.

"Or better yet, a class in interpretative dance," Jace added, sounding so very serious when he said it, Alec turned his head to glare at him. How gullible. The moment he did, Jace's tongue slithered out to taste a dot of mayo leftover on his lower lip, winking at Alec. _Got you._

Alec fought the instinctive blush, and tried very hard not to fixate on that image: Jace, tongue, glistening lip. Ugh.

_Think about Isabelle trying to dance in seven inch heels to African drums and a cowbell._

The image was silly enough that it allowed Alec to diffuse the moment and look away again, popping another grape into his mouth.

* * *

"I'm so full," Jace sighed, leaning heavily into Alec's left side as they walked down the hall, following the rest of the first years to their next class.

Alec's reply was grumpy, and he tried to nudge Jace away with his elbow. "That's not my fault." His irritability was a cover for how flustered he became whenever Jace did this, unintentionally invaded his personal bubble and set Alec on edge. He was edgy because he didn't exactly mind it. More than that, he liked the smell of Jace's hair and the warmth of the other boy, but he couldn't just walk and let it slide. He had to pretend to be inconvenienced or Jace might actually catch on, and then there would be no end to it.

Unfortunately, Alec was smart enough to realize it wasn't ever going to end the way he wanted it to. Jace didn't look at other boys; he certainly didn't look at Alec like that.

Alec's was a very unrequited attraction and affection. But he didn't see how he could possibly help it. Jace was... so many things. Annoying, yes, overly confidant and painfully sarcastic, true, but he still occupied a big corner of Alec's mind and heart, and it would take a lot of doing to remove the blond from the high pedestal Alec had placed him on. His faults weren't enough to dissuade Alec. Alec wasn't even sure if Jace himself would be able to change his mind, if it came to that - and the thought alone was earth-shattering.

Unconsciously, Alec moved away from Jace, needing the space suddenly. The other boy jolted, with his unwitting support gone.

"Well, if you'd eaten your sandwich, mine wouldn't have been so colossal. And then I wouldn't be so uncomfortably full now."

"So it's my fault you overate?" Alec paraphrased, incredulous.

"In a nut shell, yes," Jace agreed, smiling lazily.

"I'm not going to even bother arguing that," Alec decided, with a roll of his eyes.

Isabelle trailed a few feet behind them, both hands supporting her cell. It really was nervy, walking down the hall like that, with her phone out in the open for any professor or administrator to see - and claim. Isabelle would be miserable if her phone was taken for an indefinite period of time. Alec thought about warning her to hide it, but as they took to the stairs leading up to the roof, he was distracted, more interested in trying to figure out where they were headed than giving his sister some friendly advice.

What was up there? Alec was envisioning bungee jumping or rock climbing, something to do with the great height of the roof or maybe the view from the roof. But if it was something like astronomy, wouldn't the class be better held at night? And really, what bearing would that have on their shadowhunter education?

But as it turned out, Alec's ideas were completely wrong. It wasn't a traditional rooftop at all. Instead, they arrived at a green house which spanned a good portion of the length of the building, the glass walls steamed with humidity, a row of neatly arranged sprinklers lining the transparent ceiling overhead. It was warm and fragrant and Alec's nose tickled with the urge to sneeze by the sudden assault of so many floral things.

Someone to his left did sneeze, again and again.

Isabelle stepped around Alec's opposite side, pulling a face.

But it wasn't any safer. Soon the temptation was too great and Alec was seized by a sneezing fit. Allergies, of course. It just suddenly became very hard to breathe in the trapped space, where the air was so thick and the pollen was not his friend, and the unwelcome tickle was starting to form in his throat. Isabelle, likewise, was making a disagreeable noise, trying so hard to stay off her sneezing.

Jace, by contrast, just looked in awe of the Greenhouse, apparently pleased by the amazing variety of flowers and plants that surrounded them.

Alec wished he could appreciate it. He really did. But his eyes were starting to water, blurring his vision into a confusing conglomerate of purple and green, gold and blue, and admiration just didn't come so easy for him. He would love a box of kleenex, though, and maybe if they could open the door for a little while? Just to let some fresh air in.

"Good afternoon, children," a voice greeted them from somewhere in the distance, swallowed up by the overgrown plant life.


	15. Ingest

**The Institute**  
a multi-chapter fan fic by ariviand

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters from The Mortal Instruments series by Cassandra Clare.

**A/N: **Sorry again for the delay. I wanted to get this chapter out, to finish explaining the class and introducing another professor/TMI char, but for those who are reading this for Malec reasons, I promise I will be returning to the pairing soon. Just don't want to to fixate, too much, too soon.**  
**

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: Ingest  
**

Beside Alec, Isabelle swore into a sneeze. It came out like some strange, hissing, half-managed curse with a funny face at the end.

"How are you ever going to survive the semester?" Jace leaned in, apparently addressing both of the Lightwoods, who had been afflicted by allergies ever since they were very young. The spring and summer definitely set them off at random times - a walk in the park, a breeze filled with the scent of flowers. But then dust would do it just as well, pet dander, and too much perfume, although Isabelle seemed immune to her own fruity fragrance. It didn't set her off like one foot inside the Institute's greenhouse seemed to have done.

Alec tried to shoot Jace a glare while fighting off his own sneeze. His pale eyes looked pained, and they were watering now uncontrollably.

"Can't we just get a doctor's note and opt out?" Isabelle protested under her breath, searching her bag desperately for a tissue.

"Allow me," a voice interrupted, a fine cloth handkerchief waved like a peace offering between the small group of shadowhunters. Isabelle, Alec, and Jace panned up the length of the man standing in front of them. What _was_ he? That seemed to be an even more interesting question than who he was, though it was certain by the timber of his voice - the same soft, but self-assured voice that had greeted them moments before, that this was their professor.

The handkerchief was obviously being offered to Isabelle alone, though Alec was equally as in need of something to blow his nose and wipe his eyes with. Isabelle accepted the pristine cloth without speaking, her eyes dazed and her mouth working like it wanted to smile rather than gape. But then it was screwed up in another sneeze, and Isabelle was forced to utilize the handkerchief as she sneezed into the bunched fabric, her hands cupped around it.

The professor was quick to retract his hands. As gracious as the offering might have been, he seemed none too eager to be around a sick girl, and he didn't put any great effort into hiding his distaste. His green eyes were interesting - they were green as the leaves of the potted plants and tangling vines around them. But stranger than his eyes, was the leaf-shaped mark on his cheek. Was it a strange tattoo? Was he just that intensely into botany that he wanted a memento to carry around with him on his face?

Isabelle glanced up from the soiled hanky and appeared to register how taken aback their attractive professor was. Not that she could have helped the sneeze, but it looked like she very much wished she could have held her breath or turned away, something to prevent him from looking at her now like she was a disgusting little bug holding onto his former handkerchief. Isabelle flushed a little, unhappily, before glancing away from the man. Alec shifted uneasily beside her, frowning up at the professor. Gracelessly, he swiped at his own nose, with no one in particular to impress.

"You're allergic to the plants," their professor spoke again, glancing between the two of them.

"Isn't it obvious?" Alec replied, not meaning for it to sound so impertinent. But he didn't particularly like the looks the man was giving Isabelle, or the way his sister was so obviously crestfallen that one man in an hundred wasn't cracking on her - not that she should want their professor to be interested in her. But still, it was Isabelle, and she only seemed happy when every man in the room was drawn to her. And their professor was repelled, if anything, and rude besides.

"They have allergies," Jace supplied, his voice neutral. He didn't seem particularly offended or amused, merely curious as to who their professor was and maybe when he was actually going to get around to starting the class, rather than sending Isabelle mixed signals.

"That is strange," the as-yet-unnamed professor commented, looking down his nose at Alec, then back at Isabelle, who was trying very hard to collect herself between the folds of the handkerchief, the blush receding. "And unfortunate."

"It's a lot more common than you think," Isabelle snapped, straightening up. "Thanks," she added, gesturing with the hanky, but she wasn't so cruel as to return it to him used, when it was so obviously freaking him out. Turning away from the professor, Isabelle shoved past a row of plants and walked out of view, limbs snapping back into place in her wake. The honking sounds of her blowing her nose were not lost on the others.

The professor twitched once, but didn't glance behind him. "My name is Meliorn," he spoke, with an arrogant lift to his very angular chin.

A faery name. Of course. Alec considered that bit of information, and the mark, the unique color of his blue-black hair, the way he carried himself, even the fact that he was teaching this class, and it all came together.

What an interesting faculty had assembled at the Institute. Shadowhunters, werewolves, witches, warlocks, and now a faery. It certainly put mundane school to shame. They wouldn't begin to know the meaning of diversity and blending different races together. Try different worlds, all under one roof.

"I'm Alec-"

"I know who you are," Meliorn answered, nodding to both Alec and Jace. Of course. All of the faculty seemed better informed about their students than the first years were about virtually everything, kept intentionally in the dark. Why was that, some kind of power play on the part of the professors?

"So, what are you doing here?" Isabelle spoke up, appearing once more from between the overgrown plants. She had discarded the handkerchief and looked a little better.

"Obviously, I am here to teach you," Meliorn retorted, barely glancing over one shoulder as he addressed her. He sounded mildly inconvenienced, as if his presence here was entirely against his will, but something he had resolved to do, none the less.

"Why are you allowed so far away from the Seelie court?" Isabelle clarified, pulling her hair back in a very tight pony tail. She tried to hide her sniffle.

"My position here is seasonal. I came by the order of my Queen. She has decided to invest herself in your education system. It is clear that our worlds are inseparable, interaction unavoidable. That being the case, she would not have another generation of shadowhunters educated by the agenda of the Clave, offered only a selective view of history."

Jace laughed. "So you're here to set the record straight? Tinkerbell was just a pigmy with fake plastic wings and faery dust is only glitter in a tube? I'm crushed."

Meliorn frowned at the blond boy. When he frowned, his green eyes darkened and his sharp jaw stood out against the soft features of his face. It was an intimidating look, in spite of how pretty he was, a look that would have made a lesser man tremble, like maybe he should have been a fighter instead of a school professor, though Jace didn't seem to be phased by it.

"No. I am here to teach you about the natural world, the fruit of the earth and the inhabitants of the soil. With any luck, you will take away some valuable information on herbs and beneficial plants - if you can retain the information."

"I have an excellent memory," Jace replied, with an annoying little smile.

"We'll see," Meliorn replied, turning away from him and heading down a pathway cut between rows of plants. The first years glanced between one another for a minute, before they realized they were meant to follow the faerie. Isabelle was a few steps behind Professor Meliorn, eyes curiously trained on him, while Alec fell into step with Jace, trying to keep the clearing of his throat and sniffling to a minimum.


	16. Imminent

**The Institute**  
a multi-chapter fan fic by ariviand

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters from The Mortal Instruments series by Cassandra Clare.

**A/N: **You might not believe this, but I just sat down to try to write the next chapter of Between Burroughs, and without thinking, I started writing the next chapter for this story. I don't know if my mind is mixing them up or I subconsciously decided I'd rather work on this one. But you're in luck; unfortunately the readers of BB, not so much. They'll have to wait a little longer.

Here you are.

**Also, for those of you have already read The Institute up to this point, I'm thinking of going back and adding content to most of the shorter chapters previously published. So please check back in the next few days and see if you notice the changes.**

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen: Imminent  
**

"This is ridiculous," Alec grumbled, among the first to head back downstairs. He could feel his lungs sighing from the immediate rush of fresh, breathable air, his sinuses clearing out as soon as he wasn't surrounded anymore by so many plants and flowers. Even his headache seemed to ebb, which was a godsend because it was making him especially irritable. Just listening to the too-loud sounds of one of the other students breathing over his shoulder was starting to grate on his nerves. There was no hope of concentrating in class if his temple was splitting, his nose running, and he had to try very hard not to sneeze every time he drew an inward breath.

Somehow Isabelle managed to curtail her sneezing and keep her mood light - not, Alec thought, because her symptoms had miraculously passed - but because she was so focused on their faery professor, she nearly forgot to breathe. And if her nose had occasion to run, well, she could always blot it with her newly acquired handkerchief. Ugh, he wouldn't have thought it of his sister, but Alec suspected she was going to wash that piece of cloth and keep it as a memento. If she kept it under her pillow or in her underwear drawer, he was going to be sick. Just the thought of it was mildly nauseating.

Why did a faery even carry around a handkerchief? He didn't even appear to have pockets. He definitely didn't have allergies.

"What's that?" Jace asked, catching up with him as they returned to the hall.

"I'm not going to spend the a semester, much less the whole year suffering in a Greenhouse full of allergens."

"...watching as your sister is seduced by a faery with an attitude?"

Alec groaned at the thought. Why was it that Jace always gave him sarcasm when he wanted support? It's like he was physically incapable of being serious, the more serious the situation became. Jace just didn't want to go there.

"My own personal hell," Alec declared, weeks' worth of being unable to breathe and sick to his stomach.

But getting some sort of medical excuse to opt out of the class was impossible. It would be embarrassing and shameful to ask for special treatment, and he couldn't even ask his sister to go through it with him, because she'd rather suffer and stay and fawn than sit this one out for health reasons.

Alec, on the other hand, would rather not be in constant discomfort. He had to keep his body and mind in peak condition, and that included having open airways and a clear head.

He would have to give it some thought. There had to be some kind of solution. Maybe a rune would stand against the allergies. Or he could make up work outside of the class. That sounded far-fetched, but Alec thought at least this class was not so crucial in his training, that missing out on the taxonomy of plants or familiarity with the medicinal use of herbs was going to set him back any in his shadowhunter education.

Jace clapped him on the shoulder, giving Alec a gruff squeeze. "I wouldn't lose any sleep over it. Isabelle will go through him faster than a new pair of shoes."

Alec stopped, turning on Jace with the most serious, indignant face he could muster. "No, she won't. He's a _professor. _And a faery, to boot. It's fine is she wants to fawn over a piece of fabric and watch him like he's the next best thing since the invention of...strappy shoes, but I know my sister, and I think Isabelle is smart enough not to act on it."

Jace stared back at his face, one blond brow slightly raised. He was taken aback by Alec's tone, suddenly so defensive and angry. Maybe he guessed that it was a touchy subject with Alec, before Isabelle had eyes for this Meliorn.

"My mistake. I'm sure you're right," Jace conceded, surprising him.

And then his parabatai turned and kept walking, his arms casually swinging by his sides. After a few moments, a girl joined him and he seemed pleasantly distracted, their tense conversation forgotten.

Unfortunately, it was all Alec could think about as he broke away to find the bathroom. As his head cleared, he couldn't help but imagine Meliorn as his sister's next pursuit, and all the trouble that would arise if she even tried to go after him.

But worse than that, worse than her getting involved with a Downworlder and their _teacher, _what would happen if she failed? What kind of impact would the fall-out have on her, on all of them? The school year had just begun. They couldn't ruin everything already, over a fling that could have - should have been avoided. It was impossible.

Alec decided he was going to sit down and talk to Izz about it later, and maybe also try to bring up the subject of her leg again.

He was resolved as he shoved open the door to the bathroom. It was unisex, the Institute not bothering to put up an elegant placard designating that it was to be used by men or women. There were only two stalls, and two corresponding sinks, the window beyond a surreal stained-glass, like they should be sitting in on a sermon rather than answering the call of nature.

But Alec reminded himself that this was a cathedral once. People prayed here, they worshiped here, long before they trained to fight demons and study the shadow world in which they lived. How strange, to think how very different his life would be, if Alec were actually here to attend mass, or even seminary. If he was destined to be a priest instead of a shadowhunter, wouldn't that be strange?

Alec glanced at his reflection in the glass above the sink, trying to imagine himself in the garments of a priest instead of the school uniform, a starch white collar at his throat instead of a tie, black shirt, pants, shoes, instead of navy and khaki. And he would probably be forced to cut his hair. Alec grimaced at the thought.

How stupid and conceited was that? He didn't mind the idea of dressing down and wearing black - he did that already, but angel forbid anyone touch his hair.

As Alec was still imagining it, staring back at the glass and seeing something else entirely, he wasn't aware that the door to one of the stalls had opened or that he wasn't alone anymore in the bathroom, not until a dark head rose above his in the mirror.

Recoiling, Alec pushed away from the sink and turned around to face the warlock, as if he had been doing something wrong. Alec's face flared in embarrassment.

"Oh, don't let me interrupt you," Magnus replied, smiling indulgently. Those strange eyes were looking at him again, looking at him in the same way they had done during class, in a way Alec didn't like and yet his body responded to, like he was doing more than looking.

Alec visibly shuddered. After the whole thing with Isabelle, he was not going to give the man a moment's encouragement. He shouldn't be looking at Alec that way. He shouldn't even be alone with a student.

Alec thought about just turning away and leaving the room, but he had come to use the bathroom, so he really couldn't leave. The warlock should get over with it, wash his hands and go.

Releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, Alec was relieved when Magnus Bane approached the sink and pushed back his bangles, like he was going to do just that. He waved one wrist and the water turned on. A sidelong glance at Alec and there was a hint of a smile as Alec watched, undeniably impressed as the warlock snapped his fingers and procured his own bottle of soap. It looked really expensive. And it smelled like something that belonged at a perfume counter. Alec resisted the urge to sneeze; his throat was already raw.

The professor lathered up and rinsed with the hot water pouring from the sink. Another casual wave of Magnus's wrist, and the water shut off. Another snap, and a fine hand towel appeared. The warlock used it to blot his hands, then folded it, and draped it across the edge of the sink.

Alec stared at the wash cloth, realizing there were letters stitched into the seam. What were they? A designer's name? A famous logo he should recognize?

He didn't realize he'd been squinting, staring at the hand towel with unmatched intensity, until the warlock spoke again. "My initials," Magnus replied helpfully. "It's from my house."

"That's what paper towels are for," Alec replied, unintentionally snappish.

The older man chuckled. Did he find Alec's impertinence amusing?

"Why do you bother?" Alec suddenly demanded, glancing from the towel to the warlock.

"I want the best," Magnus replied with a little shrug, like it should be obvious that a paper towel was no match for monogrammed, no doubt quality hand towels.

"That's a waste of magic."

"It's practically effortless," Magnus disagreed, though his voice was still pleasant, conversational.

Alec sighed, unwilling to continue to argue the point. It only made it more apparent that they were from two completely different worlds, and that was exactly how it should stay, the distance between them. He scowled at the reflective porcelain of the sink.

"Why won't you look at me?" Magnus asked.

Alec hadn't realized he was consciously trying _not_ to look at the warlock for any length until the other man pointed it out, and then, of course, he wasn't going to make a _point _of looking at him. All Alec wanted to do was look away, or better yet, walk away. His face heated up even more, and Alec hated it.

"Why do you insist on _staring _at me?" Alec demanded, his fingers twitching nervously. To cover it up, Alec balled his hands into fists.

"I can't not stare at you," Magnus answered honestly, taking a cautious step closer. It was a forbidden move, closing in on Alec's personal space. It wouldn't have been OK under any circumstances, it definitely wasn't OK for a warlock to move that close to him, especially when that warlock was his professor.

At the same time, Alec couldn't move away. He'd spent half the class convincing himself that those looks Magnus Bane had been giving him, they were offhand and meaningless. Absolutely blameless. Now he was starting to think otherwise, and it was really too late to stop and think what he should do or how he should react, because it was happening.

Magnus was standing within reach of him, the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom glinting off his skin, his hair tickling Alec's nose, and the only thing Alec could do was widen his eyes in response and swallow uncomfortably.

Long, uncomfortable seconds ticked past. Any ground Alec might have gained with his standoffish speech earlier, he had lost. He had to do something to save face.

"Try," Alec muttered, unable to make his voice as loud and strong as he needed it to be.

"Is that really what you want?" Magnus Bane asked, warm breath fanning Alec's cheek. Alec's eyelids fluttered and he could feel himself nodding, only the _yes _that lingered on his lips had nothing to do with the warlock's question.

The warlock was so close, he could feel the strange heat coming off his skin, so hot the man must be feverish. His arms were bare. The room was cold. It didn't make sense. But Alec couldn't help reacting to that warmth, feeling his own skin prickle in response to the heat it craved, all the time.

As he sucked in a breath, inhaling the warlock's unique scent, something fresh and warm and vaguely citrus, the professor began to move away. The heat Alec found so immediately compelling was withdrawing from his body, and before he could think of what he was doing, what it meant, Alec heard his own voice whispering the plea.

"No."

Alec thought he heard the other man's breath catch. Then there was a moment's pause, where Alec held his own breath and took an unconscious step backward.

There was a blur of movement, what Alec thought might be Magnus's hand rising, his very long arm extending, his bangles sliding back against his forearm. The clink of metal was very loud in the quiet of the room.

Then Alec felt the shock of that hand against his cheek, stinging his skin with the unfamiliar warmth. The heel of the warlock's hand rested against his jaw and those long fingers pushed back into his hair, and as Alec's mouth dropped open in protest, gasping at the unwelcome touch, the warlock lowered his head and sealed his mouth with a kiss.


	17. Intelligent

**The Institute**

a multi-chapter fan fic by ariviand

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters from The Mortal Instruments series by Cassandra Clare.

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen: Intelligent**

Not having kissed another boy before, or really anyone outside of family, Alec didn't know what to expect. He wasn't even really sure what to feel.

But one thing he certainly felt, more than anything else, was trapped. Even the way the warlock framed the side of his face, put gentle pressure on his jaw and tangled his fingers in Alec's hair, it seemed like a sinister attempt to entrap him. If Alec pulled away without warning, would those nails scratch the side of his face? Would those fingers pull viciously on his hair?

Why he was assuming the warlock would be so mean even as he was trying to kiss Alec, it wasn't clear. Alec didn't know how to process what was happening, except to treat it like a taunt, his defenses going up. It was how he reacted when Isabelle gave him mocking kisses on the cheek, or Jace hugged him in a way Alec knew wasn't the least bit serious.

Why was it that everyone who got close to him, only did so in order to make him the brunt of a joke?

He didn't consider that everyone else stayed away, because of the immediate and severe responses he gave when they tried to do otherwise.

This time was no exception.

Before he even allowed his brain to process the unfamiliar pleasure of another mouth pressed against his, or the absent-minded stroking of Magnus Bane's fingertips against his scalp, Alec twisted his face away, dislodging that hand, before shoving the taller man back, reclaiming a safe distance between them.

"No," Alec said, his voice shaky. This time the meaning behind that word was completely different, warning the warlock not to try again.

The shadowhunter's face burned with heat. It was an uncomfortable mixture of embarrassment, anger, and the residual warmth of the other man's hand, imprinted against his cheek. His lashes fluttered, eyes wanting to dart away in uncertainty. But Alec stood his ground, fists balling, resolute.

The professor stared back at him in silence, his dark, but glittery brows drawn, right hand fallen to his side. His ringed fingers curled in slightly against his palm, as if he too wanted to ball his hand into a fist. But he didn't. He just stood there watching Alec, his cat-like eyes so strange and surreal, it gave Alec goosebumps. He wasn't looking into the eyes of a human, not at all.

Those eyes might have been beautiful, the color a curious blend of green-gold that might even seem soft if not for the intense, vertical slits of the pupils. He was half-demon, a fact which hadn't even occured to Alec when their mouths were pressed together, but it was very hard to overlook the obvious now, as those Downworlder eyes bored into him, with what Alec thought might be accusation.

"What?" Alec demanded, his voice too loud in the stillness of the bathroom.

"You're clueless."

"_Excuse _me?"

"I don't think so," Magnus replied, with a slight shake of his head. Those painted lips pursed and the warlock eyed him with distaste, chin arrogantly lifted, emphasizing the warlock's lofty height and his current pique with the first year. "There's really no excuse for it. You're old enough to have some idea of what you want, even if you have no idea how to go about it. I'm sure I was aware in my infancy."

Alec frowned, clearly not following.

Magnus made a rude sound of impatience, taking a step closer. Alec shot him a look of warning, gesturing as if to reach back for his stele. The warlock paused, brows raised. Seriously?

"Your eyes asked me to kiss you," Magnus clarified. Alec was already shaking his head in negation when Magnus cut him off, lifting one glittering hand in front of his face. Alec could feel that extraordinary heat again and a phantom tingling in his lips. He bit his tongue a little to keep from licking his lips, not wanting to give the warlock the satisfaction.

"Are you denying it now?" The older man asked, head slightly cocked as he regarded Alec's tight expression.

"What are my eyes saying now?" Alec asked bitterly, willing them to say _back up or I'll run you through. _But he wasn't sure how successful the attempt was, considering he could still feel the unwelcome blush in his face.

" 'Be careful,' " Magnus replied, eyes assessing as they traced over Alec's tense features.

"I have to go," Alec cut him off abruptly, shaking his head. He'd rather hold it than linger here any longer, stuck in a bathroom with the High Warlock of Brooklyn.

"You're going to regret this later," the warlock called as he started walking away.

"Are you threatening me?" Alec shot back, spinning around.

"No. But you're smart enough. It may take you all day, maybe even to the end of the week, but you're going to think back on what just happened and realize that you wanted me to kiss you just as much I did."

"And if that's true?" Alec pressed, bravely pushing the words, even though his heart started racing. Unconsciously, he took two steps backwards, moving closer to the door, his escape route. "You're a _professor_."

"I'm a lot of things, Alec," the warlock answered dismissively, shrugging one of his too-thin shoulders to punctuate his statement. "Believe me, being employed at the Institute is not one of my priorities."

"But there are still rules you have to respect as long as you are," Alec replied, almost gasping as he said the words. It was still unspeakably hard for Alec to mouth off against a teacher - or was it because they had kissed that made it so difficult now? But it was precisely _because_ they kissed that Alec had to pursue it. "And I'm pretty sure kissing students is not allowed."

"Hm. The mail must not have made it to Brooklyn. I didn't catch that memo."

"It's common sense!" Alec said, almost shrieking in his disbelief and anger over the situation. How could Magnus Bane be so carefree about the situation? He had just committed a very grave offense on school property...and to make matters worse, Alec had been his almost-willing accomplice.

The question remained, should he go to the faculty about this? Was it something he felt strongly enough to report?

"I thought it would be worth the risk," Magnus was saying, his voice so soft and sincere, Alec blinked. The Downworlder was no longer teasing him, nor was he flared into argument as Alec's temper rose. That's not usually how it went when Alec got angry with Jace or Isabelle - it was a steady escalation into dangerous territory.

Getting angry while the other person remained calm, that was an unfamiliar and awkward situation for Alec.

Magnus sighed, taking a few steps closer, but he glanced down at the floor with each of his carefully measured steps, as if he was trying very hard to avoid upsetting Alec, or making him skiddish by his progressive nearness, which was a wise move, considering how close Alec was to the door.

"I didn't think we'd be having this conversation so soon."

Alec stared at him, wondering what the warlock had expected. That he would just go along with it, without protest? The thought incensed him.

"What did-"

"Really, I couldn't imagine anything beyond kissing you."

Hot color rushed into Alec's face. He was shaking his head again, backing up into the door. Alec's stomach clenched in fear. Usually when his fight or flight response kicked in, he leaned more towards fight. It was what he was supposed to do. No matter what happened, or how scary the situation was, shadowhunters were supposed to charge into them without fear, ready for action.

They were not supposed to find the easy way out, and run headlong towards it. That's part of the reason Alec felt physically ill as he inched toward the door.

But the rest of it, if he was being honest, was simply the fear itself. Magnus Bane terrified him, and everything the warlock said and did, it just made it worse. Alec's desperate fight to keep him at bay, it was clumsy and half-hearted. No wonder the warlock accused him of giving mixed signals.

In this situation, Alec had absolutely no idea what he was doing and had no training to go by. He was helpless and he hated it.

"I wish you hadn't," Alec said, though his voice sounded so rough and almost pained, the shadowhunter glanced away, hand blindly groping for the doorknob. His fingers brushed against the cool metal, clinging to it. It reminded him of the cool brush of Magnus's rings, and the foreign scrape of the jewelry against his face. Unwittingly, Alec shivered, closing his eyes.

When he felt the hot breath of the warlock once more, so close to his face, Alec couldn't say that he was surprised. Part of him wanted to shove the man away again, if he hadn't expressed himself clearly. But he had lost the will. He knew it was wrong. Alec had exhausted himself trying to argue his way around it.

But the truth was, he had spent so much energy denying himself, Alec couldn't even remember what the kiss felt like. It was his first kiss and he hadn't even allowed himself the time to enjoy it, or even to register it. The only thought he had had, was for ending it. It was bittersweet.

He had always hoped that it would be Jace, stealing a kiss, Jace who surprised the hell out of him and did the very thing he only believed possible in dreams. He really hadn't entertained the idea that anyone else would try.

Alec didn't realize as he leaned against the door, holding his breath, his now-closed eyes were asking the same thing as before: he wanted the warlock to kiss him. Irrationally, unfairly, he wanted to experience it again, in spite of everything he had said in anger.

It should not have surprised him, then, when Alec felt the cool brush of that ringed hand, this time brushing against his own fingers as they clung to the doorknob. Not sure what he wanted, Alec loosened his grip slightly on the door.

But Magnus Bane only assisted him in twisting the knob and opening the door. As Alec opened his eyes and moved back, allowing the door to swing open, the warlock released his hand, then he walked out of the bathroom without a word, leaving him there, stupidly holding the door.

* * *

**A/N: **I went through several different scenarios on how I wanted this to go. Sorry, readers, if this is a little more angsty than you imagined. I promise it'll get better. Malec is destined, even in an A/U. You're just going to have to be a little more patient.

P.S.: Hoping for better luck, having this note seen at the end of the chapter, rather than the beginning. Heh. This chapter is dedicated to Hikoru Aniki, who keeps me humble by pointing out my typos and not fangirling over my writing any more. I'm not even sure if she likes what I'm dishing or not. I hope so. I'll try harder to impress. Can't promise this chapter will be free of typos, though. I'm tired.


	18. Imagery

**The Institute**

a multi-chapter fan fic by ariviand

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters from The Mortal Instruments series by Cassandra Clare.

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen: Imagery  
**

It didn't take very long to scan the hall in the hope of finding some familiar faces. Still, he took a moment, pausing at the door until he thought he was calm enough to go inside.

When Alec finally walked through the door to the classroom, he got mixed glances from Jace and Isabelle. Isabelle seemed concerned. Jace looked irritated. Their first words when he slumped into his creaking seat only confirmed Alec's suspicions.

From Jace: "How did you manage to lose your way? It's a simple game of follow the leader."

From Isabelle: "I thought you might be sick. All those plants stuffed me up too. Ugh."

Alec, who was too tightly wound up to properly acknowledge either one, just scowled at the opposite wall and muttered "shut up" under his breath, his hands clenching against his knees beneath the table top.

Jace chuckled, assuming that remark was meant for him. Isabelle gave him a stinging flick to the arm and a scathing look, hurt that she'd wasted her concern.

On a positive note, a very small positive, at least they were indoors again. While Alec didn't find the confining desks comfortable necessarily, it was still a godsend after being unable to breathe inside the Greenhouse - or being smothered in the bathroom.

Speaking of which, he never got a chance to go. Alec shifted uncomfortably, wondering if he still had time.

But any hope of that was immediately dashed as Hodge entered the room.

No one looked exceptionally surprised or happy as their professor arrived. Since they'd already met him the previous night, there was no mystery as to who the man was or what class this must be. History.

A dull lecture on the ancient world followed. It sounded more myth than history, and again, Alec found himself asking what bearing this sort of information would have on their future, and if they were ever had an actual need of recalling it.

Alec started out the class gripping his pen like a weapon, still tense over the conversation with Magnus Bane. He was trying to let it go, trying not to think about it, but his failed attempts at not thinking about it only made him put more pressure on the pen and grit his teeth, until he felt the plastic snap.

Isabelle shot him a look, warning him not to explode ink all over her uniform. Alec glanced away, abandoning his pen and any hope of taking notes. He wasn't even paying attention to Hodge. The only thing he could make out was the even, boring tone of his voice. It was droning on and on, occasionally broken up by the scrape of chalk against the old blackboard. Talk about ancient history.

Focusing on the soothing monotone and the caress of the chalk, it wasn't long before Alec's head started the unconscious bob, fighting sleep.

He couldn't say exactly when his head hit the desk, or when he decided to stop listening and close his eyes.

* * *

_So warm._

_All he could feel was the warmth. The tingling, soft, all-encompassing warmth._

_Alec had never known what it was like, that kind of contentment. He was either too cold and uncomfortable or feverish. There was no happy median, no rightful place where he could just exist without needing a sweater or a blanket or hugging his body close to keep away the chill._

_The warmth shocked him. It jolted his system, made his heart pick up the pace a little bit, thudding against the inside of his ears. He felt himself sigh from inside his chest, the whoosh of air pushing through, exhaling from between his parted lips, released against another pair._

_Alec opened his eyes, finally becoming aware of the source of that warmth._

_He was being kissed. Only that mouth was retreating from his - something he simply couldn't allow._

_Alec reached out, grasping for anything material. His fingers caught on soft hair, tangling around it. His arm brushed against even softer material and he lifted his head, staring up into the blur of green-gold.  
_

_"Professor," he heard himself murmuring, his own voice sounding distant and confused. But he wasn't confused about those eyes - they were too hard to mistake. It was just, he couldn't remember what was happening, or where he was. Alec was disoriented._

_"Magnus," the warlock spoke, correcting him._

_"...Magnus," Alec repeated, hesitant. He shivered as he said the warlock's name. That wasn't right, was it, to address his teacher so informally?_

_But he'd just been kissing the man, he was reminded. What did it matter?  
_

_Alec lowered his eyes, the warlock's mouth coming into focus. It was softer than he remembered, a natural pink without any covering cosmetics. Alec was tempted to lift his fingers and touch the man's mouth, to feel for himself._

_"Do you want me to kiss you again?" Magnus asked, his hot breath fanning Alec's cheek._

_The shadowhunter considered for a moment, then found himself nodding, eyes flickering back up to meet his. "Yes..."_

_And then the warlock lowered his head, his hair sliding forward to tickle Alec's cheeks. Alec tipped his head back in anticipation, closing his eyes. _

_Almost as soon as Magnus's mouth brushed against his, that flood of warmth returned. It encompassed him, starting at his face, spreading across his throat and into his torso. Alec sighed once more, savoring the feeling. _

_He wanted to go on kissing the other man, to slide his fingers into Magnus's loose hair and lean into his slender frame, to experience more than the light pressure of his lips. _

_Alec murmured, some half-formed sound of pleasure, when he felt a shove against his shoulder. _

_"Wha-?" he broke off, lifting his head. Did he do something wrong?_

_"Alec."_

_

* * *

_"Alec."

Blinking, Alec's eyes fluttered open. He was staring at the wood grains in the desk. Disoriented, he sluggishly sat up; his head felt really heavy, and he needed to stretch.

Wincing, Alec felt the rough patch of dried saliva on his cheek and he impatiently gave it a swipe with his sleeve, before glancing sidelong at Jace, who was staring down at him in amusement.

"You were drooling," he pointed out.

Alec frowned, but didn't dignify that with a reply. Instead, he got up out of the desk and had his stretch, relieved to hear all the individual bones in his back, neck and arms popping. Damn these stiff desks. They weren't ideal for learning, and certainly not for sleeping.

"The day's almost over. You could have held out on your nap."

"Why didn't you wake me up?" Alec asked, walking ahead of him out of the empty class room.

"I thought about it. Isabelle said not to." Jace paused, brow raised. "You had this funny look on your face. What were you dreaming?"

"What kind of look?" Alec snapped, rubbing the sleep from his eye.

"You were smiling. But it was kind of lop-sided, because of the way you were smashed into the desk."

Alec frowned, but he didn't bark at Jace any more for making fun of him. He kind of left himself wide open for it the second he nodded off. It was very lucky Hodge hadn't caught him napping.

Ugh. He really needed to get more sleep tonight. He couldn't afford to fall asleep in class again.

At the same time, if this was a prelude for what he should expect tonight, Alec needed something else to preoccupy his thoughts. Maybe he could read up on History. That ought to clear his head and put him to sleep, which would solve both problems at once. Or he could just try to imagine Hodge in the warlock's stead.

That would frighten all thoughts of kissing permanently from his mind.

Alec made faces at himself as he absently followed his parabatai down the hall, grateful that for once Jace didn't ask.

* * *

**A/N: **I was going to end it with seventeen for the night, but got an idea before heading to bed. Durnit. This is keeping me awake. I am so not an angst-writer. It filled me with guilt.

Hm. This chapter is dedicated **Enaid Mora**. No, reviews don't guarantee fast updates, but they certainly help encourage me.


	19. Illustration

**The Institute**

a multi-chapter fan fic by ariviand

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters from The Mortal Instruments series by Cassandra Clare.

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen: Illustration  
**

Alec broke away from the slow-moving group for a brief stop by the bathroom. While he didn't want to be late for his last class of the day, it was kind of overdue at this point.

This time he had Jace wait outside as added assurance, just in case he wasn't alone in the room.

"Should I listen out to make sure you don't fall in?" Jace taunted, amused by Alec's request. After all, it was commonplace for girls to go to the bathroom in pairs. It was a social occasion as much as a functional one. But not so much, for boys. It was strictly business.

Alec rolled his eyes, backing up into the door and edging it open with his elbow. "I should be able to manage," he retorted, but then added as an uncomfortable afterthought. "But stand watch right here. I don't want anyone else to come in."

Jace glanced skyward, shaking his head. "I'll tell them there's a problem with the plumbing, so you can have your privacy."

"Thank you," Alec muttered, letting the door swing shut behind him.

The room was just as he remembered it, the strong fluorescent lighting, the fluid hum of water running in one of the stalls. Someone probably needed to toy with the handle and shut it off. Alec considered it, but his eyes strayed to the cloth still neatly folded across the lip of the closest sink.

He could vaguely make out the dark initials, the MB that he couldn't quite read from where he stood. But Alec now knew with a certainty that they were there - and what they stood for.

The warlock had left it behind, his hand towel from home.

Alec eyed it with suspicion as he ducked into one of the stalls, closing the door.

It was still there when he came out. Alec made a point of using the other sink, as if there was something dangerous about the wash cloth and it needed to be avoided. It could be magically tampered with, Magnus Bane's means of spying on the bathroom for his own sinister purposes. Maybe there was some kind of warlock curse in play if anyone reached out and tried to touch it. Maybe they'd turn into... a cockroach or something and scuttle off in fear beneath the piping and into the wall, never to be seen again - except beneath someone's shoe.

Alec stared at it, the offending cloth, as he rinsed his hands, reached for the soap, and lathered up.

He paused, however, when it came time to dry them. The paper towels were within reach. It would be very easy to lean forward and grab the end of one and pull.

But there was a certain magnetism between Alec's hand and that neglected towel. Despite his reservations, his mind reasonably telling him _No way, Lightwood - leave it alone, _Alec found himself reaching out for it.

His wet fingers touched the soft material. Nothing happened. No sparks, no shocking sensation against his hand. He didn't turn into any manner of pest, either.

Since he'd come that far, unharmed, Alec decided to make use of the thing, blotting his hands with the towel as well before drying them off.

That done, one last decision remained: leave the towel where he found it - a potential threat to another student? Or... should he keep it?

Leave it. It didn't belong to him, and Alec wasn't comfortable with what it might imply, what it would mean if he pocketed it. It seemed too much like Isabelle taking the handkerchief from the faery, keeping it as some kind of a lame trinket.

What right did he have, really, to take the hand towel while he had made a point of pushing his professor away after the shock of their kiss? He had been reckless and even mean with the man. It was selfish and hypocritical to take something that belonged to Magnus Bane now. And if the warlock returned to the bathroom looking for it, what then?

In spite of the guilt and embarrassment, Alec shoved the slightly damp cloth inside the pocket of his uniform jacket, before turning to leave. He couldn't help the slightly giddy rush he experienced as he did.

When Alec pushed the door open again, Jace glanced up, brow raised. For an irrational moment, Alec thought Jace knew, that he could actually see the concealed hand towel in his jacket pocket. Alec held his breath, waiting for the ax to fall.

But Jace simply lowered his stele - which he had been using to clean beneath his nails, and he casually pushed off the wall. His mouth softened and he gave Alec that look. Alec knew the look and braced himself. He was going to say something sarcastic and teasing, and Alec would do well to ignore it and not give him the satisfaction. "I turned away three people in the time it took you. What were you doing?"

Alec caught himself in the act of biting his lower lip, and merely sucked on it for a second, trying to look irritated instead of embarrassed. "I saw a roach. I chased it under the sink."

Jace laughed. "Alec, the infamous roach-killing shadowhunter. You're going to be epic in the history books. Wait. You let it get away?"

He wasn't pretending to be irritated now. Even though there was in fact no roach, just the charge that Alec was incapable of killing one - which somehow was also a hit to his demon-hunting future as a shadowhunter, it was a low blow and Alec could feel the heat rushing into his face. "I stomped on it. But you know they can live a very long time without their head."

"Maybe you should ask Madame Dorothea tomorrow, about the proper method for defeating a _Periplaneta americana_."

"A...what?" Alec stammered, thrown off by the unfamiliar term.

"A common cockroach," Jace chuckled. "Like the one you squared off against?"

Alec rolled his eyes, walking ahead of the other boy. "Only you would take the time to familiarize yourself with the scientific name of a cockroach."

"Not so," Jace said cheerfully, easily falling back into step with his parabatai. "As you observed, they're a very formidable opponent. I like to be informed about all manner of threats, big and small, demonic in origin or native to our dimension."

"Good to know. Next time I'll be sure to consult you when I come across an ant pile. You can observe them and rattle off their names while I walk carefully in the other direction."

"There you go, another excellent example," Jace replied, taking on his bookish tone - which Alec found amusing now that he wasn't the target anymore. "Do you know how difficult it is to vanquish a colony of ants?"

Alec listened intensely about how ants move, how burning and even attempting to drown them wasn't foolproof. He was talking to Jace animatedly until they reached the door to the class.

Alec stepped aside, letting Jace pass first through the door. Then Alec moved to follow him inside, stopping short as his eyes cut to the familiar figure standing at the front of the room.

His skin shimmered beneath the lights. His hair was still in the perfect array of spikes, no worse for wear at the end of the day, and also dancing with flecks of glitter.

Magnus Bane turned to glance over at the stunned shadowhunter, brow raised. He looked so_ aloof. _That was the only word Alec could think to describe his cool features or the way he seemed to have no personal interest in the boy at all anymore, looking away a moment later to address the class.

Alec scrambled to his seat, sliding into place next to Jace with a pointed frown.

"Welcome to Runology, or as I like to call it, Art Class for Shadowhunters.

"But before you jump out of your seats with joy, I should let you know that I'm not going to be your usual professor. He conveniently came down with a nasty cold over the weekend, and couldn't handle the commute." Alec glanced down at his desk, not sure if he was relieved or disappointed by this news.

Today he might not be exactly thrilled to see the warlock two times for the entire length of a period. But then again, being able to sit back and watch him without having to interact with him, that was definitely easier than it had been spending ten minutes alone with him in the bathroom.

Alec flushed at the reminder, wishing he could stare down at the desk for the duration of the period. But he worried Magnus Bane - or Jace would start to question whether or not he was conscious, or mentally unfit.

And so Alec forced himself to look up as the class began. Magnus lifted a stele in front of him - Alec wondered who it might belong to. It looked like an older model, definitely used. But warlocks weren't issued steles, which begged the question who he had lifted one off of.

"This is your paintbrush. And your unfortunate skin, your canvas. I'm sure you all know by now how it works and the basics. But do you realize the full scope of the power you possess in your hands - or your overly tight pant pocket?"

"Shadowhunters don't do magic," Jace spoke up out of turn.

Alec tensed, watching the warlock's pale glance hone in on his parabatai. "If I had a dollar for every time I've heard that one... well, I might just be able to pay the rent on time."

"I thought you said your High Warlock salary was more than adequate," Jace reminded, challenging brow lifted.

"It pays. But there's no benefits package when you work for yourself."

"Imagine risking your life for free."

"Jace," Alec hissed in warning, glancing sidelong at the blond.

"If you're in this profession for the money, honey, then I truly feel for you," Magnus Bane drawled, lowering the stele in his possession. This little tete-a-tete seemed to be of greater interest than actually teaching about runes at the moment.

"Well, there's certainly honor and duty. And the incredible rush when you run a demon through."

"And there we have it. My definition of shadowhunters: extreme adrenaline junkies in possession of an array of sharp, shiny toys."

Jace chuckled, leaning forward in his desk against his folded arms. "Hmmm. I'll have to work on refining mine, for warlocks."

"You do that," Magnus Bane purred, retrieving the stele. "In the meantime, would you mind terribly if I got back to work?"

"By all means," Jace gestured offhandedly, giving him leave to continue.

"Great. Now, then. Let's rehash what you know of runes. Enlighten me, Nephilim."

* * *

**A/N: **Do I get bonus points for length? I know it's not much action, but it's two different scenes in one. I tried.

This chapter is dedicated to **MorbidMandy**. You're a very consistent reviewer, and your Chairman Meow fic was really cute.


	20. Interlude

**The Institute**

a multi-chapter fan fic by ariviand

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters from The Mortal Instruments series by Cassandra Clare.

**A/N: **Apologies for the wait, and the horrendous update. I am losing faith in myself.

* * *

**Chapter 20: Interlude  
**

"This is really weird," Alec said, picking up a fry and looking at it as if it the potato was suspect.

"It's a french fry," Jace supplied, flicking Alec a glance between between bites of his cheeseburger.

"I know that," Alec snapped, rolling his eyes. "_This_ is weird," Alec repeated, as if emphasis would make his point any more clear. He gestured impatiently to the spread, the food they were eating, maybe even the same group of students sitting at the rows of tables innocently eating their dinner.

"I don't follow you," Jace replied, licking a bit of mustard from the corner of his mouth.

"Last night, it was fancy fare. Then today, it goes from casual cold cuts to even more casual American comfort food? You don't think that's odd?"

"Don't be such a snob," Jace retorted, eying Alec's burger predatory, like he planned on eating it if Alec didn't make a move to do so. It was a rather delicious burger, fancy food or not.

"Listen to what I'm saying. It's like, they reeled us in the first night with the promise of fine cuisine and magic tricks, and now we're one step up from...fast food."

"I wouldn't say that. Smoothies don't taste this good from a drive-thru," Isabelle added, taking another sip of her pinkish shake between glances at a poorly bound book she had set on the table in front of her. It was a nice change of pace for her, reading a book rather than settling in with her cell phone. At least the book-reading wasn't against school regulation, though it was strictly speaking, poor manners to read at the table, a fact no one at their table complained about. Alec thought about it, but was still going easy on Isabelle, wondering if her leg was any better and if it would be OK to mention it now.

"Never mind," Alec said, frowning down at his food.

"Are you going to eat that?" Jace asked, licking his fingers now. All evidence of a cheeseburger had been wiped clean of both his hands and the plate.

Annoyed, Alec shoved the plate a little across the table, giving Jace permission to help himself, which he did before Alec could change his mind.

"You shouldn't do that," Isabelle said, glancing up between pages.

"What?"

"Give away your food like that."

"You're one to talk!"

"That was before we had our first day of rigorous study at The Institute. Now I understand two things: we need our sleep, and we need to eat. Actually, I'd prefer more comfortable shoes too."

"Those boots-"

"I was _referring _to the loafers," Isabelle cut him off, sucking irritably at her straw, tuning him out again.

Frowning, Alec picked up his own water, taking a sip. Half of it dribbled down his chin and onto his shirt.

Jace laughed. Of course he wouldn't miss a fail moment like that. "Drink much?"

Alec scoffed, swiping the moisture beneath his chin. Nothing could be done for his soaked shirt.

Removing the napkin from his lap, Alec got up and left the table, ignoring anything Jace or Isabelle might have said as he walked out of the dining hall.

* * *

Alec stalked his way through the hallway, looking like an awkward, avenging angel. His fists were clenched, his hair was a black, choppy halo around his face, and his open uniform jacket flapped behind him like wings as his long legs strode step after stomping step past a row of lights that looked exactly the same, closed doors that belonged to classrooms and training rooms, and finally bedrooms, as he neared the residential wing, or at least he was pretty sure he was almost there.

Why was he so annoyed with the food? Why did he care what he ate, as long as they were still providing the meals and he didn't have to suffer through anymore of Isabelle's cooking? It's not like he hated fries and burgers and milk shakes. Sure, it was fairly mundane, but you could get that even at diners run by Downworlders. It was something recognizable and easy, and Isabelle was right. They worked out enough to burn the fattier foods, and there was always the option of salads and protein shakes, if they didn't care for the entree being served. A typical school cafeteria served preserved cardboard by contrast and the portions were definitely a lot smaller. Training hunters couldn't subsist off tiny partitions of corn and a little bit of meat.

Really, it had nothing to do with the food or his siblings and their sarcasm. It was something else. Something else was really bothering him.

A shadow moved across his path and Alec froze. For a second, he had to look up to see who it was, and he worried that that something, or rather someone, had materialized out of nowhere.

But it was just another student, en route to the bathroom. And he had red hair, not black, and his face was covered in freckles, not glitter.

Alec frowned as the other shadowhunter disappeared behind the familiar door, affording only a brief glimpse of the white sinks and tiled floor before it closed. Alec shook his head and kept walking, increasing his pace so that he could get inside his room, lock the door, and think for a while.

* * *

"Hurry up, Alec!"

Alec started, looking around at the unfamiliar streets and houses of...where were they? There was something familiar about that smell, stale and industrial. Ugh.

"Alec!" Jace called this time, his familiar figure pausing ahead. Alec saw his blond head turn, his attractive face in profile as his parabatai waited for him to catch up. Alec jogged the distance between them, glancing distractedly up at the streetlamp overhead.

"Brooklyn," it dawned on him suddenly, and Alec made a face.

"Yes, we already covered that several blocks back," Jace retorted.

"I hate Brooklyn," Alec grumbled, finally placing that less-than-pleasant smell.

"Too bad. You were overruled," Jace chuckled, walking again. Alec kept pace with the other boy while looking in distaste at their surroundings. He hated coming to Brooklyn. Wait. Why were they here, now?

"What are we-"

Jace whistled. Alec shut his mouth, staring up at the other boy. He obviously wasn't the reason for the catcall.

Isabelle stood in the shadow of an overhang, wearing a willowy skirt and slight blouse, her hair loose. She grinned as she saw them approaching. Alec almost missed the shorter girl half-hidden beside her. She was wearing all black, a too-short skirt and black eye-makeup, black boots. She looked like a little shadowhunter thug, but for her too-red hair and fragile body, too small to be useful.

It was the girl from combat training, the one who knew Lucian Graymark. She was annoying as well as useless.

_Clary. _Even her name was annoying.

"What is she doing here?" Alec demanded, pointing an accusing finger at the girl who was definitely cowering behind Isabelle's skirt now.

"She's my date," Jace said, chuckling at Alec's overreaction.

Stunned, Alec stood by as Jace climbed the steps of the porch and reached for the slight redhead, drawing her closer. Without objection, Clary lifted her arms, wrapping them around his neck. On the toes of her ridiculous boots, they kissed, not even trying to spare them the gory details of their tongue sparring.

Alec felt the bile collect in the back of his throat, an uncharacteristic growl rising in his chest.

But then he felt the pressure of fingers and nails on his upper arm. Isabelle was holding him back. Tiny bells twinkled against her ankles as the breezed rushed past them. Alec's hair stung the sides of his furious, red face.

"She's tragically short," his sister murmured by way of reassurance, nudging his side. "Don't worry. She's just a novelty."

"What the hell does that mean?" he snarled, trying to shake her off.

"It means she'll be short-lived." Isabelle's painted lips curved in humor. "Pun intended."

Alec looked at her with a frown, but he felt marginally better. Maybe she was right.

And if she wasn't? Why did he even care? Jace could kiss whoever the hell he wanted to, as long as he didn't do it like _that_ in front of him.

"Come on," Isabelle said, tugging on his arm.

The other two had already pushed inside the building, laughing in the entryway. Isabelle held the door for him, with one last look of warning. Alec frowned again, but followed her inside.

The air in the entry was even worse than the "fresh" air outside, and there was a greasy, blinking light overhead, several moths flitting against the glass. Alec tried to shut off his natural revulsion to the peeling walls, the dirty floor, the freshly wet stains coming through the ceiling overhead.

Isabelle was pressing a button on the wall, a series of nameplates belonging to a call box that looked ancient and out of service. But after pressing the button several times in succession, the box finally buzzed to life, an irritated voice crackling on the other end.

"NONE SHALL PASS!"

Alec jumped at the sound of that voice, glancing over at Jace. Clary's eyes were wide, more whites than anything. Jace look amused.

Isabelle pressed the button again.

"ARE YOU DEAF OR DUMB? NO VISITORS AT THIS HOUR WITHOUT AN APPOINTMENT!"

"Hi, my name is Isabelle Lightwood. I'm the star pupil in your Downworlder Relations class, and I just had a few questions for you that can't wait til morning."

Alec was glancing from the call box to Isabelle's face to Jace and back. What the hell was going on? Downworlder Relations?

Was this...?

By the Angel!

They had come to Brooklyn, to the house of the High Warlock, Magnus Bane.

There was some colorful cursing on the other end in a language Alec didn't recognize, then the same voice made a staticky reply. "Come up, then, but be quick about it. I'm feeding my cat."

"Sounds like an exciting evening at home," Jace quipped.

"I thought we were going to a party?" Clary asked in a whisper.

"What party?" Alec said, looking accusingly at Jace.

"It was just an excuse to see you in a skirt," Jace teased, smiling down at Clary. Alec felt the vomit rising again. Fortunately, the side door buzzed open. He was the first to shove it open and start ascending the stairs, Isabelle tinkling fast behind him, the other two clunking and flirting their way to the second floor landing. By the time he reached the door at the top, Alec was scowling. He took it out on the door, knocking hard on the aged wound.

As he lifted his fist for the third knock, the door suddenly sprang open. Alec's hand was awkwardly raised in the air, stuck there in his surprise.

There was no one at the door to greet them.

The apartment was dark, save for a light at the other end. Alec wasn't sure if they were allowed inside or not.

The sound of a loud meow shook him out of the moment and glancing down at his feet. A tiny creature rubbed up against his boot, arching its slight back. He felt rhythmic purring against his leg.

A cat? Seriously?

Flustered, Alec tried to edge the animal aside with the toe of his boot.

"Please don't kick my cat."

"I wasn't-" Alec began, chin jerking upward.

Magnus Bane stood in the shadowy entry way, though the light coming in from the hallway caught on his glitter, making the skin of his arms and throat shimmer in the darkness.

He thought he saw the warlock's mouth quirk, but then Isabelle caught up with him, shouldering her way beside him. That smile slipped. By the time Jace and Clary joined in the doorway, Magnus was frowning and crossing his arms over his chest in displeasure.

"What is this?"

"We had to make a break for it," Jace said, leaning casually into the warlock's door frame. "Can we hang out here for a few hours?"

"I don't think so. I'm not throwing a party tonight, and even if I were, I don't extend invites to young Nephilim."

"We thought you might say that," Jace continued, gold eyes sparkling with mischief. "That's why we brought Alec."

"WHAT?" Alec gasped, shooting Jace a look.

"Excuse me?" Magnus replied, unimpressed.

"You can have him. Can we borrow your bedroom?"

"JACE!"

"Absolutely not," the warlock answered, and yet Jace pushed inside his flat, an anxious Clary in toe.

"Excellent. Promise not to touch your throw pillows," Jace said.

Alec was sure the warlock would strike him down before he could even get two feet inside. Instead, to his disbelief and supreme embarrassment, Magnus Bane didn't move as Jace and a clunking Clary disappeared into the back of the apartment, a door shutting behind them.

Alec looked for Isabelle behind him. But she wasn't there. Instead, there was some movement in the adjoining room, the click of a television set turning on and a small source of light.

Very self-aware, Alec slowly panned back to the warlock, who was still standing there in his entry, arms folded, eyes unhappy.

"Look," Alec cleared his throat, cursing the fact that he had had no part in this, and yet was the one left to do the explaining. "I'm sorry about this. I didn't have any idea this was going to happen. I didn't even realize where we were going until literally two minutes ago, and even then, I'm not sure if I could have stopped-"

"It's fine," Magnus replied, cutting him off.

Alec stopped, unsure he had heard him right.

"Your friend is a smart ass."

"I know..." Alec replied, his tone still apologetic and a touch ashamed.

"It was a risky move, using you as bait."

Alec frowned, not sure he liked being referred to as 'bait'.

"Unwillingly."

"Maybe. But you're the only reason I haven't snapped him into the next burrough."

Alec blinked, uncomfortably shifting footing.

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't be. I'll burn the sheets later," the warlock responded, stepping closer. "How long do we have?"

"I..."

"Fifteen minutes, you think? Or is that ambitious?"

"I'm not sure-"

"Let's say ten and I'll lock the bedroom door from the outside." There was a quick snap of Magnus's fingers, which made Alec jump again. Why so skittish tonight?

But before he had the chance to react, Magnus Bane was stepping into his personal space and Alec weaved back away from him, falling towards the open doorway.

A large hand settled on his lower back, preventing the retreat. Alec sucked in a breath, remembering the strange electricity that came before when those fingers touched his face and hair. It surprised him, how much he wanted it to happen this time.

And then it was happening, the kiss as soft as he half-remembered, warm, fluid, and perfect. Was that a strangled moan? It was definitely his. There was a low hum in response, making Alec shiver, skin prickling all over.

"Magnus," he murmured when the kiss ended, breathing fast and shallow, smiling to himself.

Lifting his hands, his palms encountered open air.

Alec's eyes opened to darkness. He was laying on his back in the uncomfortable bed at the Institute. A disoriented glance to the side, and the digital numbers on the alarm clock confirmed it was the middle of the night. He couldn't even remember falling asleep.

Rubbing both of his eyes, Alec sat up. As he did, there was a loud thump, something solid and heavy hitting the ground. What was that?

Peering over the side of the bed with squinted eyes, Alec could just make out the shape of a book. Reaching for it with a grunt, Alec picked up the volume, turning it over in his lap as he leaned back against the single pillow.

It was his textbook from Runology. There was a strip of cloth peeking out of the top of the book, somewhere in the middle. Distractedly, Alec opened it up carefully to the page. It was the hand towel from earlier, the one from Magnus Bane's house, holding the place. And the page it marked was a rune for memory.

Alec stared at it for a good while. Then suddenly he slammed the book shut, blushing, and set it on the bedside table. He rolled over, drew his legs up, and tried to go back to sleep, banishing all thoughts of Magnus Bane from his mind.


	21. Interest

**The Institute**

a multi-chapter fan fic by ariviand

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters from The Mortal Instruments series by Cassandra Clare.

**A/N: **This was my last A/N - "Apologies for the wait, and the horrendous update. I am losing faith in myself". Unfortunately, the same still applies. But there's some hope. I've decided instead of wasting precious energy trying to force out anything for NaNoWriMo when I have way too much to do right now, I'm going to just try to use the same system for updating my fics here. I will *try* to update something several times a week. Let's see how it goes.

* * *

**Chapter 21: Interest  
**

Morning.

Alec squinted one eye open, as if he expected the sun to blind him. But it was way too early for that, and the heavy curtains would have blocked out any possible light. The room was all shadows. Rubbing at his right eye, his head slowly rotated to the side, pillowcase tickling his cheek. Alec blinked and rubbed until the digital numbers on the alarm clock started to make sense.

5:34, it read. Sighing, the shadowhunter sat up and ripped the blanket off. His body pulsed once in response to the sudden cold, a really deep shudder, his skin prickling. Then Alec tried to blot it out, swinging his legs over the edge and placing bare feet on the floor.

The bathroom was empty. He still had twenty minutes at least, twenty minutes to enjoy the quiet and the empty stalls and take his time. Alec stared at his own reflection in the mirror. Flushed cheeks, eyes rimmed in red, though not as bad as yesterday morning.

His hair was chaotic. It was flat in the back and all static mess up front due to his waking-habit of pushing his fingers back through his hair and ruffling it.

A shower might fix that. Might not. He debated whether or not to spend his precious time alone in the shower or catching up on his reading.

The cold tile swayed him. Hot shower it would be. After using the bathroom, he padded back into his room to get what he needed. Alec didn't really like getting dressed fresh out of the shower; the clothes were clingy and it was a challenge to pull on humid skin, especially tight sleeves and pant legs. But he wasn't about to walk around the Institute wearing just a towel. So he headed back into the bathroom with his uniform pants and a towel folded over one arm, draping them over the door before quietly moving into the shower stall, messing with the taps.

Alec stared at his hands as the water ran down his arms and wrists. There was a little dirt under his nails, but not too much. He was thinking about his father's hands and how different his were. Robert Lightwood had calloused fingers, an interesting rough-soft feel to them whenever they shook hands or he briefly touched Alec's shoulder. That was about as much affection as he could expect from his shadowhunter parents.

Even his mom's hands were calloused, and both of them had many more scars than Alec did, paler marks along their wrists, on top of their hands, old cuts along the palms. Alec wondered how much of it was from wielding weapons, how much of it was from old Marks, and how many of the scars were from wounds they'd experienced while fighting. How many years would it take him, before his hands could rival theirs?

His hands were too smooth, too soft, too…small. Alec didn't like that, the longer he stared at his hands. His fingers were too long and seemed too graceful and fragile to belong to a demon hunter, to Nephilim. He was supposed to be stronger than a human. But his hands looked entirely too mundane.

Something he would have to work on while he trained. Maybe if he could bulk up his body, his hands would change too with experience. Alec hoped so.

His fingertips were starting to prune. Turning away from the water, Alec tilted his head back and started washing his hair, fairly sure his time was almost up.

His hair was still dripping as he tried to step into his pants, scowling at the clingy material. He had thoroughly towel-dried, but still they put up a fight. And they were going to wrinkle.

Stepping out of the humidity of the bathroom, Alec was still struggling with the button on his pants when a bell sounded. A bell? He jumped back, looking around, guilty, as if he'd broken some school rule, walking to his room shirtless.

But then doors were opening and the hallway filled with the sound of voices and shuffling feet. Bleary-eyed students shoved past him, scratching at their scalps, yawing into their hands, barely giving Alec a second glance. He ducked back into his room, wondering what happened to the unconventional wake-up call – then stopping himself, because he didn't want to spend the day thinking of _him._

* * *

Breakfast was odd. Alec stared down at a mixture of what looked like bacon bits and eggs and… something grainy, all mixed together.

"What is this?" he demanded of those sitting around him at the table, poking at it with a fork.

"It's good," Isabelle decided, licking some of the unidentifiable stuff from her spoon.

"Gruel. Eat up," Jace said, snickering around his spoon.

"Is it?" Alec inquired, making a face.

"What does it matter?" Isabelle asked, glance straying between Alec's face and his food. He knew that look. She wanted his breakfast, and she would make a move if he seemed the slightest disinterested.

Despite his distrust of new food items, Alec tentatively let his spoon slide into the mixture with a suspicious squish. Then even more slowly, he brought it back up to his mouth, tasting what was on the end of the spoon.

It tasted kind of like cheese. It wasn't bad, the grainy portion.

Alec was in the process of burying a second spoonful when there was a jarring clinking of silverware against glass. All heads turned to the front of the dining hall, where Hodge stood, that eerie bird back on his shoulder, totally at odds with his tweed suit.

"Good morning," he greeted, to a mumbling, uneven chorus of 'good morning.' The less than enthusiastic reply didn't seem to bother him, however, as he lowered his glass and smiled at the assemblage.

"I just wanted to congratulate you all on surviving your first day of classes. I've heard excellent things from all of our staff about the potential of our students, and I know your parents will be proud and honored to know that the next generation of Nephilim will be clever and capable, strong and—"

"Sexy," Jace added under his breath, muttering into his spoon.

"Shut up," Alec hissed.

"Sensual," Jace crooned, the spoon disappearing into his mouth.

Alec's eyes widened, and he would have choked had he been eating.

"Sinuous," Jace finished, licking the underside of the metal, taking away the last of the food residue.

"Sick," Isabelle said, her spoon clattering loudly against her bowl. Several heads turned in their direction, though it wasn't enough to interrupt Hodge's impassioned speech.

"My work here is done," Jace chuckled, dipping his spoon into her bowl and snatching a healthy portion of it. It made it to his mouth before she could slap him.

* * *

Jace was imitating Hodge all the way to their first class, using elaborate hand gestures and a deep, theatric voice that sounded nothing at all like the History professor. When he turned to glance back at Alec over one shoulder, the older boy had showed off his own gesture, one finger raised. He had left breakfast with a bitter taste in his mouth, and it had nothing to do with the food he had barely touched.

But by the time they walked into Demonology, Jace was finished. Madame Dorthea smiled at them, wearing yet another ridiculous headdress today, and so many bangles you could barely see her wrists. Alec listened to them clink as she gestured for them to take their seats.

"Good morning, children! I trust you slept well last night? Nightmare free, all comfy cozy in your beds?"

"Well, I wouldn't go quite that far," Jace retorted, legs outstretched in front of him.

"What's that, darling? A complaint about your accommodations?" Madame Dorthea asked, her tone even more melodic as she spoke to Jace. Alec wasn't sure if it was because she was mocking him or because she liked him. He supposed it was a little bit of both with everyone. It was hard to decide with Jace, hard to be one way or the other when you couldn't even judge if the boy was serious half the time.

"Not at all, Madame," Jace formally replied, his finger tracing around a hole in the desk. As Alec stared at it distractedly, he wondered if it was from a pencil point or a blade. Considering where they were, the latter seemed more likely.

"So polite," she chirped, then moved on with the lesson.

* * *

"Why is it that we train with blades and not bullets?"

"Too much noise," a boy in the front row shared with a snort, like it was obvious.

"Too much of a mess," the girl beside him disagreed, pulling a face.

"No," Jace disagreed, the voice of authority on the matter. "Bullets are mostly ineffective, more annoyance and distraction than anything else."

"Unless they're silver," the redhead a row up pointed out, turning to look back at him with a look Alec thought was meant to be challenging. But since both of her brows were raised, she just looked stunned.

"This isn't a class on downworlders, sweetheart. Silver bullets still won't cut it."

"What did you just— " she stammered, her face turning three shades of red. But Madame Dorthea intervened with a twitter.

"Thank you, Jace, for indulging us. I'm sure you'll thoroughly enjoy hearing that you're right. But you still haven't answered exactly why bullets are not as effective as a seraph blade."

Jace shrugged. "The same reason we don't use mundane weapons. Swords, knives, daggers, that sort of steel doesn't mean anything to a demon. Sure, it would hurt, if you sliced off a tentacle or ripped out yards of bowel— "

Madame Dorthea cleared her throat in warning.

Jace smiled. "But they'd just regenerate and come at you more angry than they were before. Only a seraph blade stands a chance against the denizens of hell. Holy weapons against unholy opponents."

The professor nodded, looking uncommonly grave as she leaned up against the desk at the front of the room. Alec could swear he heard the legs squeak in protest to her weight. "Anyone can wield a hand gun. I've heard it's all the rage now," she mused, fanning herself. "But only the children of the Nephilim, those of age, those able to bear Marks, can wield the instruments crafted by shadowhunters for generations, blessed by the angel to destroy those creatures that trespass in our world, bent on devouring all that we hold sacred. It is you, my dears, who have been charged with protecting the same."

"Amen," Jace replied.

* * *

"You were uncommonly quiet," Jace pointed out as they walked out into the hall en route to their next class.

Alec shrugged. "I'm surprised you noticed."

"Were you jealous?" Jace snickered.

"Hardly. I was just thinking."

"Novel concept."

"I know," Alec replied, shooting him a half-assed glare. "You should try it."

"Maybe I will," Jace grinned, though the smile slipped a little. The girl from class, the vapid redhead was standing there waiting for them to pass. She must have run ahead to catch them, which was quite a feat for someone so short.

"Jace?" Alec tested, wondering if he should create a diversion, tell the girl to leave them alone, or let him deal with her.

"It's fine. You go ahead," Jace murmured, trying to sound inconvenienced, but Alec didn't mistake the wicked glint in his eye.

Alec nodded, trying to hide his pique. He walked past the girl, and he wasn't particularly careful about avoiding her in the crowded hallway, taking some small measure of satisfaction from shoving her out of his way.


	22. Invasion

**The Institute**

a multi-chapter fan fic by ariviand

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters from The Mortal Instruments series by Cassandra Clare.

**A/N: **I was going to write this all as one long chapter, but I've decided to split it up so the action won't be too disjointed from point to point. I am writing the next chapter, however, since I already had it planned out. I just don't want to delay this update because it's not finished. So here you go. **  
**

* * *

**Chapter 22: Invasion  
**

Leaving Jace to commune with the red-headed troll, Alec traversed the hallway quickly, agitated steps traveling faster than his normal long-legged stride, forcing him to arrive outside the next classroom sooner than he would have liked. He worried he might be the first one there, an embarrassing notion even at the Institute. He hadn't seen Isabelle. Today, the first years weren't following in a single file line from class to class, since the element of surprise had been taken out of the situation. The young shadowhunters were trusted to find their own way. Still, Alec couldn't loiter uncomfortably in the hallway and hope not to be noticed. So he took a quick breath and stepped through the doorway.

Unlike yesterday, he was not greeted by the smell of roasting coffee, or a friendly invitation to come inside. The man standing at the front of the class was not tall, nor shiny. He was undoubtedly a warlock, however. His eyes were bird-like, the pupils dark focused laser points that followed Alec's movements toward the back of the class. Unlike the High Warlock of Brooklyn, this man was very pale and wore somber clothing, dark shirt and black slacks, dressed like he was going to attend a funeral. He also looked a little lost as to what he was supposed to do, as the rest of the class slowly filtered in and claimed their desks.

What happened to their professor? Was he sick? Was he late? Was he...not returning?

Why did Alec care so much? Didn't he _want_ the avoid the man at all costs?

Alec frowned, picking at the button on the inside of his left cuff, tugging on the fragile thread that held it in place. Jace walked past Alec's line of vision. He looked uncommonly pleased with himself. Alec glanced at his parabatai without turning his head, wondering how long it had taken him before Jace made the girl cry. Alec took some small degree of pleasure from that visual, Clary bursting into tears and running away down the hall in her clunking shoes, skirt flying up after her, but then the red-haired hobbit entered the classroom last. Alec's weren't the only eyes that moved her way, though his were perhaps the only ones that glared with displeasure and hostility at the sight of her blushing and biting her lip before sliding into the first vacant desk in sight.

She didn't look upset. Alec turned his head to regard Jace fully with a look of accusation. Jace was staring straight ahead at the girl's back, smiling a little.

"Did I miss something?" Alec inquired, trying to keep the acid out of his tone. Jealousy left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth.

"Not really," Jace murmured, not giving anything away. That only annoyed Alec further.

Scowling, he sat back in the creaking chair and glared once more at the girl, cursing her strawberry hair and tiny frame, wishing her bald. Their professor was speaking, introducing himself to the class. Alec only half-heard him.

His name was Ragnor Fell. Magnus Bane was out for the day - no explanation given. So this warlock was just a temporary replacement. Though Alec was still abstractedly curious as to why their usual professor hadn't made it in today, he couldn't concentrate on it anymore; he was more focused on wishing the girl ill and trying (not) to guess what had happened in the hall between her and Jace. Why did he even given her a second thought? She couldn't be a formidable partner in any sense of the word. She was almost a foot shy of most women, not to mention she hardly appeared to be a capable fighter with that lack of stature and confidence. She looked better suited for a garden gnome than a shadowhunter. Alec considered pointing this out to Jace, but ultimately decided to keep it to himself. It was a touch nasty, flavored by Alec's immediate dislike of the girl.

* * *

Alec lay in bed, back and side still aching from combat training. Additionally, he had a rash on his left hand - which he was desperately trying not to scratch - from accidentally brushing up against some plant in the greenhouse. His nose and throat had only just started to clear from spending so long trapped in the humid space overtaken by plant-life with names too complicated to remember. But he was just going to have to tolerate the once-a-day flare up of his allergies; it was a matter of pride, making the decision not to opt out of the class simply because he had difficulty breathing. While Alec couldn't enjoy the exotic flowers and could only half-focus on the stern faery as he waxed on about the use of herbs and natural healing remedies, he was kind of used to being distracted in all of his classes. Something was constantly on his mind, something outside of his studies.

Even in training, when he really needed to focus and anticipate the next move of his opponent, Alec had found himself thinking about something else. He couldn't remember now if it was Jace or Isabelle or even that irritating pygmy, but the end result had been embarrassing - being kicked in the side by a girl, with enough force to knock him down. He'd sprung back up and continued sparring, albeit with a stinging torso, but it shouldn't have happened to begin with. Alec needed to bring his mind back to the present. He couldn't afford to make any more mistakes. There was no time out in the real world, and usually no second chances. And he needed to focus on his education. The Institute was so many times more intense, more involved than mundane school. He could have slept through most of his classes in public school and still made the grade. Here, not so much. Most of his classes didn't even have proper textbooks, and a number of texts on the subject weren't written in English. So he needed to soak up what he could, and clear his mind to better absorb the material. That was double-true for history, which he had almost fallen asleep in again today, but Jace's incessant coughing right next to him kept jarring his eyes open. Alec suspected, since it was the only time he'd heard him cough all day, that there was nothing wrong with Jace's throat. He was trying to keep Alec awake. As annoying as the distraction was, Alec was grateful.

Maybe if he didn't scratch, but just slapped his opposite hand, the heat of the slap would calm down the itch. Alec tried this once, experimentally. But it just made it burn twice as much.

Throwing his head back against the pillow, Alec glared up at the ceiling.

After a minute of silence, and absent-minded scratching, Alec muttered aloud. "Hemlock." That was it, the damned plant that did this. Why did that sound familiar? He didn't doubt Jace would know.

Nails curling in on themselves so that he wouldn't scratch again, Alec leaned over to grab his cell. He had actually remembered to charge it.

No new messages. What else is new? Opening a new text window, Alec typed in Jace's number, then scrolled down to the text box.

"Wh2t," he started typing, then Alec squinted angrily at the 2. He deleted half the word and held down the 2 button long enough to catch the A.

Before Alec could retype the T, however, he heard movement out in the hall.

The phone slid out his hand on the bed and Alec wrenched back the blanket, climbing out. It was cooler in the room, but he moved quickly towards the door and opened it.

"What are you doing?" he asked of the cluster of first years, all standing around in their pajamas. But then he realized that one boy had his stele out, the other was in the process of naming his blade. Then Jace came jogging down the hall with two seraph blades in hand, both glowing. He was grinning.

"Where's your bow?" Jace asked, sliding one of his blades into his belt. He was the only one who had bothered to dress.

"My bow?" Alec asked, confused. "Do you know what time-"

"Go get it. I'll wait," Jace said, though the others in the group were already rushing down the hall.

"What is this? Some kind of late night game?" Alec demanded, fairly sure they weren't supposed to run around the school in the middle of the night brandishing their weapons.

"Alec. Get your bow, and I'll explain on the way," Jace reiterated. He looked serious, as much as that was possible. He was also smiling.

Alec hesitantly went back inside the room. Since Jace was still standing in the open doorway, Alec didn't change his pants, but opened the chest and removed his bow and arrows. He strapped his bow to his back, grabbed his stele from the nightstand, just in case, then rushed to meet Jace back out in the hallway, starting to feel the first twinge of excitement/fear.

"Explain," he demanded, falling into place beside Jace, who was walking quickly in the direction of the other boys.

"Demons outside."

"What?"

"Quiet. Do you want to wake everyone up?" Jace tsked.

"What do you mean, 'demons'?"

"Exactly what it sounds like," Jace whispered, leaning close to keep his voice down. Alec shivered.

"What kind of demons?"

"The scary kind," Jace retorted. "And there are several of them."

Alec thought about this for a moment, but before his mind started rolling through a mental index of demons, he thought of a new objection. "But the Institute is on hallowed ground. Hodge said-"

"Maybe this building is demon-proof, inasmuch as that's possible, but obviously not the lawn."

"That's impossible! It's called hallowed _ground_ for a reason, not just the...sacred perimeter!"

Jace gave Alec a look that challenged him to argue the point further. Alec, who hadn't seen any proof of anything yet, met that look with his own incredulity. Still, his heart was beating fast, in anticipation of whatever they were about to walk into. As much as he doubted that demons had overtaken the Institute, clearly something had alerted the others, or they wouldn't be heading outside, armed, in their pajamas.

The side door creaked open, a blast of cool evening air hitting Alec, making his bare arms prickle. He shivered, one hand gripping the strap holding his bow.

He could see the other first years ahead of them, glowing seraph blades cutting through the shadows on the front lawn. One boy was grappling with a creature taller and bigger than he was, but that creature looked only shaped like a human, just a hell of a lot uglier.

"Forsaken," Jace breathed.

Alec reached for his bow.

"How did you know?" Alec muttered under his breath, readying the first arrow. His pulse was thrumming in his ears now, so loud even over the familiar sounds of the struggle.

"One of the second years heard the commotion, and I overheard him gathering a group to take care of it," Jace quickly explained, one glowing blade in the ready.

"Shouldn't we tell-" Alec protested, drawing back on the tension of the bow.

"No time!" Jace retorted, then he was rushing into the action, glowing seraph blade brandished, blond hair flying out. It looked like a white halo under the moonlight. His black clothing, on the other hand, faded into the darkness.

Gritting his teeth, Alec ran after him.


	23. Injury

**The Institute**

a multi-chapter fan fic by ariviand

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters from The Mortal Instruments series by Cassandra Clare.

**A/N: **Finished writing the second part. I don't know. It's done.**  
**

* * *

**Chapter 23: Injury  
**

Alec remembered hearing the sound of his bow snapping. It was loud and sharp, the sound of the wood being bent to the point of breaking, splintering into useless pieces within the mutilated hands of the Forsaken.

He couldn't remember how it sounded when those same hands broke his arm. He could only remember the searing pain of it, radiating out from his shoulder. He could feel the wet heat of the blood rolling down the inside of his arm beneath his shirt sleeve, the protesting muscle as it tore, his fingers twitching useless at the end of the suspended limb, like they wanted to reach for a weapon in the final moments. Alec's wide eyes rolled up to the creature looming over him, the stench of the rotting once-human making his stomach twist. Bile and excess saliva rose in his throat.

The Forsaken's other hand was around his neck, squeezing, blackened nails digging in. It killed his scream, his cry of pain, pinched off his breath as he tried to gasp for it.

"By the angel, you're ugly," he heard Jace drawl, his voice so calm. He couldn't see the other boy, but the last thing Alec felt was a flooding sense of relief. Then the pain dragged him down, or maybe he was falling out of the Forsaken's grasp. He felt cold beneath his back and against his cheek and closed his eyes.

* * *

He tried to open his mouth, breathing in desperately. He tasted blood on his tongue, on his dry lower lip as he tried to moisten it. The smell of alcohol burned his nose.

Alec felt the pressure of his own cough, rattling inside his chest and forcing its way up his sore throat. Alec shivered, vaguely aware that he was naked to the waist. There was material at his back, but not stretched across his chest. Someone had taken his shirt.

"Don't try to talk."

Who was that? Isabelle?

"Hold him down. He's going to make it worse."

God, his throat burned. He could barely open his eyes. Alec tried, but they were crusty and dry, the eyelids just roughly scraping. His lashes tickled his cheeks and his skin crawled, prickled from the cool air - except at his side. There, along his left side, he was burning up.

He wanted to ask why, he wanted to see how bad it was. Was his arm broken? Was he still bleeding? Why didn't they just use an iratze and be done with it? He tried to move his right arm, grappling for his stele. It was in his back pocket, right? He'd slid it there, in his pajama pants, before he left. But he couldn't see, couldn't feel anything but starched sheets, and then someone's hand at his wrist, stopping his arm as he searched.

"Alec. Be still, or we're going to have to get rough with you."

Jace that time, his voice holding a touch of amusement. This was no time to mess around. Alec could feel his face pull into a scowl, then a wince. Why couldn't he move the fingers of his other hand?

"I'm going to be sick," someone said. Alec could hear them shuffling in the background.

"Then get out," Isabelle seethed.

Alec turned his head, cheek rolling against the pillow. The soft material stroked his skin. He breathed in and out a few times, then tried once more to open his eyes.

This time it worked. He blinked until his vision cleared. Then when he looked down past his shoulder, he was horrified.

"NO!" he heard himself. He tried to scream, but it came out barely a strangled gasp. He felt the pressure of Jace's hand around his wrist. He knew those calloused fingers, recognized them as he tried to get Alec's attention. Isabelle was stepping up to the left side of the bed, voice soft and reasoning. He couldn't even make out what she was saying.

Then Hodge was there, gently pushing Isabelle out of the way.

"Drink this, Alec," he urged.

Alec looked up at the man, wild-eyed and senseless with panic.

But then hands were framing his face, forcing his head back. A vial hovered over his mouth and Alec had no choice but to choke the bitter liquid down. A few seconds of coughing and shaking his head and wincing at the unfavorable taste and phantom throbbing in his shoulder and Alec was floating again.

* * *

"Alec?"

His head twitched. Something soft brushed his cheek.

"Alec."

That soft touch burned against his face. He didn't realize it was because his skin was so cold that those fingers felt so hot. Alec's eyes rolled beneath the weight of his closed lids. Eventually, he opened his eyes and stared up into the blur of a face.

It sparkled.

"I sent them out of the room," that low voice continued to speak. "I'm going to repair your arm."

Alec stared, tried to blink to clear his vision. This time it wasn't working out very well.

He swallowed with some effort, trying to move his chin in a nod. He couldn't feel the pain in his side anymore.

"Gone," Alec finally murmured, remembering the blood and the raw wound and then nothing beyond his shoulder. His arm might have been broken, but then it was severed. He couldn't feel his fingers because they were no longer attached, no longer a viable part of his body. What was an one-armed shadowhunter? Nothing. Useless. Crippled beyond repair.

But as these irrational thoughts streaked across his mind, clouded by panic and whatever drug Hodge had given him to calm him down before, Alec thought he saw long fingers wiggling in front of his face, glitter catching his eye. Then the face loomed closer and he felt the warmth of another body. Alec closed his eyes, grateful for that warmth.

"Let me work my magic."

Soft fingers touched his closed lids. Alec felt his whole body tingling, warm and fluid, then he lost track of time again.

* * *

Alec was scratching his hand. He wasn't aware of this until he opened his eyes and heard the sound of his own nails digging restless scratches into the tender skin across his palm.

Damned hemlock. Curling his fingers in to keep from irritating the itch even more, Alec sat up, displacing the sheet that covered him.

"Good morning."

Alec turned his head sharply to the right. Magnus Bane was seated in a chair beside the bed. His dark hair was as glittery as Alec remembered, though the stylized spikes looked to be sagging a little, ultimately dragged down by the force of gravity. His eyes were a bright green-gold in the dimly lit room, watching him carefully.

Alec's attention shifted to the room around them, the checkered floor, the high walls, the closed double doors leading out to the hall. There was no one outside at this hour.

He was in the Institute's Infirmary, not his own bedroom.

Last night came rushing back, everything that happened after he left his room. The Forsaken out front, the short-lived battle. He'd shot one down. He'd watched Jace behead another.

Then he'd lost his bow. He'd lost his arm.

Alec stared down at his arms now, realizing belatedly that his left arm was still there, fine, functioning, pain-free, like nothing had happened. He even had the skin irritation from the poisonous plant he'd brushed up against yesterday in class. It was red and splotchy, but there was no blood, no soreness, no broken bones. There was dirt under his fingernails, but that was it.

Astounded, he looked up and hesitantly glanced back over at the warlock.

"You're welcome."

Magnus Bane was still watching him. The longer those inhuman eyes stared at him, the more strangely self-conscious Alec felt, a reminder that he was still shirtless. He shifted a little in the stiff bed to confirm that he had pants on at least beneath the sheet. His pajama pants, sticky, probably soiled from the fight outside and falling to the ground, but no one had tried to undress him. That was reassuring, Alec guessed.

But someone had washed the blood and dirt that had to have been streaked all over his upper body. He remembered the terrifying wound, much as he didn't want to. He remembered all the blood on the bed, staining his side. Blood didn't just disappear because a nasty wound had been healed, with or without magic.

"Thank you," Alec finally spoke, his voice so soft. It was uncomfortable using it again, his throat tight.

The professor continued to stare at him. Alec thought he was going to smile, but then his mouth tightened. "You're lucky I came."

"What?"

"I was taking a personal day. I was in the middle of a party when I got the call. I had half a mind not to answer."

Alec blinked. "A...personal day?"

"Personally, I didn't feel like coming in, so I called out sick."

"Do warlocks get sick?"

Magnus stared at him over the length of his arrogant nose. Alec twitched. "What do you think?"

"You didn't have to come," Alec replied, his tone almost resentful. Maybe it wasn't the best way to show his gratitude, but the way the warlock was looking at him and talking to him made him defensive.

"You're right," Magnus agreed, glancing down at his nails, which he had curled in for the purpose of his serious inspection. Apparently finding no flaw, his attention returned to the shadowhunter. "But then you would be without an arm."

Alec flushed at the reminder, unable to think of a proper reply.

"Healing runes are ineffective on severed limbs."

"I know that," Alec muttered under his breath.

"And I only had a small window of opportunity. Even my magic is risky on dead flesh and dead things. The commute wasted enough time."

Alec looked down at his hands, one pale, one red. He had never been so relieved to see both awkward-looking hands resting in his lap.

"Why did you come?" Alec asked, still staring down at his hands.

He breathed in and out a few times in the silence of the room. A door opened and creaked shut somewhere down the hall. Finally discomforted by the overwhelming quiet, Alec lifted his head.

Magnus Bane was leaning forward in the metal chair. The smell of his skin tickled Alec's nose, clean and soft and faintly citrus. It was nothing like the way Jace smelled, always of soap and leather and occasionally sulfur from the newly applied Marks.

Alec didn't realize it, but he was looking up at the taller man with hope and fear, gripping the sheet that covered him, twisting his fingers around it. He held his breath when the warlock's lips parted, and he felt that warm breath once more against his face.

"It's my job," Magnus answered. Alec let his breath out slowly, disappointed.

"Oh."

"Hodge told me about the attack. I didn't ask questions. I came."

"Oh," Alec stupidly answered, no intonation in his voice. He could feel the displeased color spread across his face He started to look away.

"He said you were hurt," Magnus elaborated, still hovering near the edge of Alec's bed. "There were others with scratches. One boy with a head injury. Nothing your Nephilim healing couldn't fix," the warlock said with a shrug. Alec watched him out of the corner of his eye. Something shifted in Magnus's expression. "But he said there was one boy whose arm had been torn. As soon as he said your name, I was out the door."

Alec looked back up at the warlock, brows drawn.

"Oh, I would have come anyway. But I didn't wait for a cab."

Alec thought to ask how he'd arrived at the Institute, but decided it was a petty detail, so he refrained.

"How does it feel?"

"Fine."

"I can't tell if you're particularly happy to have your arm back or if it's just because you don't want to be indebted to me for the job. If that's the case, don't worry. It comes out of your tuition," Magnus casually replied. He was getting up out of the chair and stretching. Alec watched his slender frame elongate and ripple, his impossibly long arms reaching for the ceiling.

He did look like he'd been torn from a party. His eyes were ringed in kohl. The warlock had silver rings on every finger, tight leather pants that barely left room for movement. And his shirt was shimmering silver, slipping off one glittery shoulder as he lowered his arms again.

Then the professor started heading for the door, a black coat slung over his bent arm. Alec watched him walk away and pushed at the sheet tangled around his legs. "Wait," he said, trying to swing his legs over the side of the bed. There was still an ache in his side. Unconsciously, Alec hissed.

Finally, Magnus Bane turned, summoned back by the sound of the young shadowhunter's discomfort.

"Is it your arm?"

"No. Combat training."

"My. Aren't you accident prone?"

Alec lifted his chin, face warm even as he met the warlock's eyes. "I'm still learning."

"Yes," Magnus answered, stepping closer to the bed. "That's why you're here. To make mistakes."

"I don't want to make mistakes. I don't actually like getting hurt."

"Neither do I. But if you're going to get hurt, at least you can take pleasure in knowing that I'm on staff."

Alec didn't reply to that. In spite of the warlock's timely intervention, for which Alec was definitely grateful, he wasn't sure that having Magnus Bane around, having to sit in the same room with him at least five times a week, was the safest thing, the wisest thing. He didn't want to have to stare at his professor and admit that he found him attractive or even remotely interesting. He couldn't even begin to guess what compelled Magnus Bane to single him out.

He was a Downworlder, he wore more glitter and leather and jewelry than Alec had ever seen on anyone, even Isabelle. He was so wrong in so many ways.

"I..." Alec began and failed, leaning back into the mattress. Magnus stood within reach, setting his coat back down on the end of the bed.

"Yes?"

_This is wrong_, Alec's thoughts repeated. Looking at him, blushing just because Magnus Bane looked right back at him, that was wrong. Feeling anything more than gratitude because the high warlock had done his job and agreed to heal him, that was wrong. Being grateful that they had a chance to talk, alone in the Infirmary where he had nearly lost him arm, that was all kinds of wrong.

But when Magnus Bane stood there, waiting for him to speak, his eyes soft and beautiful, in spite of the inhuman shape to the pupils, Alec couldn't think about that. Right and wrong were immaterial. He'd lost his moral backbone, left it on the floor of the bathroom the last time they were this close.

"You were right," Alec said, his last hand tightening into a fist.

"Oh?"

"I wanted you to kiss me. I was just too scared to let you," Alec admitted, getting through the words, backed by sheer adrenaline. It was kind of like in the moments before he threw himself into a fight. He was even shaking a little, which is why he fisted his hand, trying to look calm on the surface.

Magnus didn't speak. He looked like he was studying Alec's face, maybe trying to decide if he was being sincere or not.

"What are my eyes saying now?" Alec whispered, swallowing.

"I can't decide," the professor answered, head cocked as if he was really giving the question serious thought. Alec stepped away from the bed.

Alec couldn't say it. But he could show the warlock. He had to show him while he still had the courage, backed by the adrenaline rush. It was because of this man that he had both of his arms, that he was even able to stand the morning after the vicious attack. If he stayed in school, if he was expelled today for being reckless, or tomorrow for kissing faculty, Alec didn't care. Oh, in a few hours he might care very much, and worry and tear himself up and freak out.

But right now, he was reaching out with both hands, framing the warlock's face as he had done before to Alec, pulling him down. His fingers were curling around the roots of the gelled spikes, tangling in glitter and surprisingly soft black strands.

Alec closed his eyes when their mouths touched. His fingers knotted tighter in nervous reflex around the warlock's hair, hoping he would respond, willing his lips to relax, willing him not to pull away. He could if he wanted to; Alec's grip on his hair would slacken the moment he felt the first sign of resistance.

But just as Alec considered pulling away himself, Magnus Bane was humming against his mouth, lips parting. Slim arms slid around his waist, drawing him closer. That strange warmth was pressed up against his chest, and Alec swayed into it gratefully, tongue seeking out the heat of the inside of his mouth, sealing them together.


	24. Insecure

**The Institute**

a multi-chapter fan fic by ariviand

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters from The Mortal Instruments series by Cassandra Clare.

**A/N: **I AM SO SORRY! Everyone who is still reading my fics, I deeply apologize for the eternity of time that has lapsed, in which ariviand was too busy, too lazy, or just too uninspired to write anything worth sharing. But I really have the will to try again! I can't speak for the quality, but while I was rereading some of my old stories, trying to decide which to update, this last chapter of The Institute really made me happy. So I decided to start here.

Be merciful!

* * *

**Chapter 24: Insecure  
**

The kiss was over too quickly.

Ten seconds, twenty seconds, Alec wasn't able to count the time, but he was aware of individual heartbeats, a bass pounding in his ears; stuttered breathing trapped between their clinging mouths; the sound of his fingers clenching and unclenching around the roots of Magnus Bane's styled hair; the rasping sound of his rough fingertips experimentally brushing against the glittery skin beneath it. Not that his mind was capable of thoughts that complex at the time, but later, Alec would wonder why the warlock's skin was so soft, and if it was unpleasant to be touched by calloused fingers, even though Alec tried for tender. But he wasn't even sure what shape his actions took while they were kissing, because kissing Magnus Bane this time was like a vortex. No, it was like possession, or how Alec imagined it could be. There wasn't much freedom of thought, much power of movement. His body was moving in instinctive reaction, not really under his own command, and the experience was sensory overload, so much _feeling_, there wasn't much room left for thought.

There was heat and pressure, warmth in his face and warmth beneath his fingers, and that humming, like a cat purring with satisfaction, but with a tone behind it, a low sound that rose from the warlock's throat and fluttered between them, teasing Alec's lips.

Alec felt the vibration of that sound against his teeth as his lips parted, but then he couldn't focus on the humming at all, because a tongue was invading his mouth and sliding over his.

He made a soft, surprised sound of his own when Magnus deepened the kiss, followed by a throaty chuckle in response that made the heat in Alec's face that much worse.

And then their seconds were up, because breathing was not optional.

It was probably for the best, because oxygen deprivation wasn't Alec's only concern in the moments after the kiss was over.

Morning breath! God, just chancing a swallow, Alec was horrified to think that he had just initiated a kiss without brushing his teeth. By the Angel, how disgusted Magnus must be to have pressed his soft mouth to chapped lips and tasted yesterday inside his mouth. And if that wasn't bad enough, there were probably undertones of blood, of the bitter tonic he'd taken. Not appealing at all.

And if that wasn't off-putting enough, Alec had no kissing prowess. The professor probably had... well, centuries! And kissing an inexperienced student who was suffering from mouth rot and clumsiness probably made the very bottom of a very long list.

It was the growing number of worries that accounted for the highly uncomfortable look on Alec's face as he stared up at Magnus Bane in the awkward silence that followed the kiss, shielding himself against the other man's disappointment.

Predictably, Magnus took an entirely different meaning from the shadowhunter's expression, his own closing up.

"No?" Magnus murmured, one glittery brow raised. His bright eyes were doing that intimidating thing, interrogating Alec without having to say anything. And the way he looked so closely at Alec's face, it felt like he was searching for a flaw. That made Alec twitch and look away, even before his mind could register the single word and question its meaning.

"I guess we'll leave the training wheels on then, shall we?" Magnus retorted. There was a soft rustling and Alec's chin lifted again, just as the professor was reaching for his coat and shrugging into it. He was going to leave.

"What?" Alec got out, eyes following the progress of Magnus's fingers, sliding casually over the buttons of his coat. They moved too fast, impatient and final, like the warlock was eager to walk out the Infirmary and head back to Brooklyn. Not that Alec could blame him; he'd missed out on his own party and a night's sleep for his sake. The warlock probably wanted to clean up and recharge.

But he couldn't go, not yet. There was still so much-

"Your eyes," Magnus said.

"What?" Alec repeated, his grasp of the English language clearly greatly depreciated in the wake of kissing.

"If this is some obliged sort of thank you, you really don't have to," the warlock elaborated, straightening an imagined wrinkle in his cuff.

"It's not like that..."

"No? You don't look so sure."

Frustrated by his own inability to communicate, Alec switched to his default, relying on emotion and not brainpower to get the right words out. "Are you psychic too? Because if you are, I'd expect better work of the High Warlock of Brooklyn!"

As soon as it was out, Alec realized how harsh that sounded. And to speak like that to a professor! He didn't talk to anyone quite like that, except maybe for Jace or Isabelle when they really made him mad.

And right after that kind of come-back, Alec could expect an equally explosive rebuttal or a fist flying at his face, followed up by an array of weapons.

He did not expect, however, to hear the ringing sound of the warlock's laughter.

Alec could feel his face going slack with surprise and just... a loss for what was going on.

And then those warm hands were at the sides of his face, cool rings pressing into his burning cheeks and making him_ shiver._

"Touche," Magnus replied, and this time his voice sounded just like a purr. Alec was unnerved by how much he was affected by that sound, especially when that glittering face was drawing closer to his face again, and all he could see without being able to turn his head were those green-gold eyes, that shimmering, lightly tanned skin, and a playful mouth - a mouth he'd just kissed.

"Enlighten me, then," Magnus added, waiting for him to speak.

The wait dragged on as Alec mulled over what he meant to say, finding it hard to think with those hands framing his face.

"Was it OK?"

"Hmm?"

"You _know_."

"Oh, I see. We're speaking in code. Forgive me, it's been over eight hundred years - give or take a decade, since I was an adolescent, so I'm a little rusty at this game..."

"The kiss!" Alec breathed. He didn't honestly think his face could grow any hotter. Maybe it was the heat of Magnus's palms absorbed into his skin. Whatever the case, Alec could feel the sweat dotting his brow and he hoped Magnus couldn't feel how clammy his skin had become, because that plus the blushing would be two more things to add to his list of very embarrassing things to happen in the past five minutes.

"Alec," Magnus spoke his name with what sounded like affection, but not like the rare tone he'd heard in his mother's voice. It was a warm, kind of rasping sound - like the humming, and it made Alec shiver against him, unconsciously leaning in.

One of those long-fingered hands slid back into his hair, the other just sliding down a few inches to rest against his marginally cooler throat, though Magnus's inhuman skin tickled the fading mark there, awakening it with new energy.

"It was sweet," Magnus replied, and when Alec could feel himself making a face at that description, Magnus smiled, adding new adjectives that might be more to the boy's liking. "Soft, warm, endearing, attractive, tempting-"

Here Alec made a sound. It was self-conscious, but not necessarily disapproving. Magnus look satisfied, before he added:

"I'm going to take that kiss, not as a thank you, but a promise."

"Of what...?" Alec asked in a hushed voice.

"Of a fine beginning," Magnus said. He leaned forward, his tall shadow passing across Alec's face. Alec closed his eyes before those lips pursed against his forehead.

Then the heat of Magnus's fingers and mouth were being lifted away.

But this time, Alec didn't feel the same sort of panic, like he'd made a complete ruin of everything, because the professor looked happy, and solidified that impression with a glittery wink.

Alec smiled tentatively in return, hip sinking against the side of the mattress as the warlock turned and headed for the door once more. He watched him go, only just relaxing into a more natural stance, evening out his breathing.

His entire body felt so heavy. Alec wasn't sure if it was a consequence of the healing or relief, or some trace reaction from the kiss.

It wasn't a minute after the double doors closed after the professor, that Isabelle was storming in, looking about as threatening as she could manage in the formal school uniform plus loafers, radiating pissed off so strongly Alec jolted back to attention, prepared to fight even though he had no idea what he had done to set her off in the hours he'd spent unconscious.

"Don't you ever do that to me again," she began, right hand fisted at her side, but thankfully no gold whip at her wrist.

Alec glared back at her, even though he realized her angst was just coming from a place of concern. But that still didn't give her the right to mother him - especially when he was the eldest sibling.

But then Isabelle's expression turned quickly to one of worry and the hand she wasn't holding in a fist shot out. Alec flinched away, still on the defensive, but her palm was already smacking against his forehead.

"What are you-"

"Alec! You're feverish," she said, then Isabelle was shoving him back into bed forcefully. He stumbled on his legs and half fell across the mattress.

"No, I'm not. I'm fine!"

Isabelle scoffed, searching her pocket for something. Alec blinked when he recognized her stele.

"Look, Iz. That's not necessary. I told you-"

"You're burning up!" she reiterated, and the reminder made Alec's flush grow impossibly darker, especially when he was forced to think of why he was wearing three shades of red to begin with. But relaying that much to his sister was out of the question, even more so when she started grumbling under her breath as she poised to draw the iratze.

"I knew it. I KNEW it. You shouldn't rely on a warlock to do the serious healing. Besides, he may be a respected professor - and have excellent taste in shoes, but that doesn't mean he should be trusted with running a hospital. How can that much glitter be sterile?"

Frowning, Alec felt the sting of the stele as she began to draw the unnecessary Mark. Wisely, he held still and let her continue. Sharp object in her hands - it seemed the wisest course.

"I'm surprised he pulled it off," Isabelle admitted in a softer tone, probably sobered by the fact that she was currently working on his newly repaired arm. So close, but not a loss thanks to Magnus.

"It looked so..." Isabelle trailed off, inhaling with care. Alec mirrored the gesture, distracting himself from her handiwork. What was taking so long?

"Did I tell you? The professor flew into the room and ordered everyone out. He wanted to be alone with you to 'work his magic.' " Isabelle giggled, the stele biting with the movement. Alec hissed. "If I wasn't in the room when Hodge called, I would have accused him of just wanting to get his hands on you."

Alec choked, diverting Isabelle's attention away from the rune she was outlining and her rant about Magnus Bane.


End file.
